‘The House of Every One’: the Consumption of
Material Culture in Castles during the English Civil
War
Volume 1: Discussion and Bibliography
Rachel M. C. Askew
Thesis submitted for the degree of
Doctor of Philosophy
Department of Archaeology
University of Sheffield
September 2013
‘The house of every one is to him as his castle and fortress, as well for his
defence against injury and violence as for his repose’
Edward Coke, 1604.
Abstract
Castles studies are currently polarised between proponents of the castle as defensive
stronghold and those who view it as elite status symbol. However, these debates largely
ignore the participation of castles in the English Civil War. This thesis addresses these
problems through the development of an alternative, biographical approach which is
applied to drinking and dining assemblages from three castles: Eccleshall, Staffordshire
and Sandal and Pontefract, West Yorkshire.
Rather than interpret the castle from the viewpoint of its elite owner, a biographical
approach utilises excavated material culture to investigate how the castle was inhabited
on a daily basis by its non-elite occupants. It highlights the possibility that a castle is not
identified on the basis of its appearance, but the way in which it is experienced by those
who inhabit it. This is demonstrated by case studies of three buildings utilised as castles
during the Civil War: a bishop’s palace, a ruined motte and bailey and a strong fortress.
The selected assemblages demonstrate the important role played by food, drink and
their containers during the Civil War. As well as being integral to a garrison’s ability to
stave off starvation, these assemblages were vital in the maintenance of group cohesion
and identity. This is most clearly seen through the adoption of outmoded vessels and
other material culture at all the castles studied. Analysis of these suggest the occupation
of castles during this period, far from being an act of desperation, was instead part of a
conscious effort by their defenders to legitimise and sustain their identity through
references to the past.
This demonstrates that, far from being divorced from the
medieval period, the occupation of castles during this period was instead the
continuation of a much longer history lasting from their initial construction until the
present day.
Acknowledgements
This thesis would not have been possible without a doctoral award from the AHRC and the
assistance of a large number of people. The staff at Wakefield Museum Service and the
Potteries Museum, Stoke-on-Trent dealt with frequent visits and endless questions with patience
and efficiency. Particular thanks go to Pam Judkins, Deb Klemperer and Sam Richardson for
allowing me access to their archives during an extremely busy period. Dr. Chris Cumberpatch
and Dr. Jane Richardson were extremely generous in answering my queries regarding Pontefract
and provided unpublished material relating to their analysis of pottery and faunal remains from
the castle. Peter Brears furthered my knowledge of the excavations at Sandal whilst Katey
Goodwin permitted the reproduction of her graphs relating to the distribution of glass at
Eccleshall (fig.6.11) and John Hudson answered my queries regarding 17th-century pottery
manufacture. Stephanie Ratkai, Dr. Richard Thomas and Pete Boland all provided additional
information regarding the excavations at Dudley and Susan Harrison answered my queries
concerning Beeston and supplied the distribution plan of artefacts from Helmsley (fig 1.2). I
would also like to thank the staff of the British Library for their assistance and Prof. Oliver
Creighton, who provided the details of Crowmarsh Castle. I am particularly indebted to Dr.
Anne Irving, without whose patience and extensive knowledge of post-medieval ceramics this
thesis could not have been completed.
The world of Civil War archaeology is a small one, and I am particularly grateful to Dr. Lila
Rakoczy, Dr. John Mabbitt, Brian Kerr and Peter Harrington for sharing their experience and
information regarding particular aspects of their research. At the University of Sheffield, my
fellow PhD researchers have provided endless support and fruitful debate, particular thanks to
Alex Cassels, Claire Finn, Charlotte Howsam, Freya Massey, Alyx Mattison, Dr. Gareth Perry
and Veronica Velasquez. Dr. Amy Hufton was also invaluable in providing necessary support as
were my family, particularly my parents.
Dr. Hugh Willmott supervised this thesis with great skill and patience and also shared
invaluable knowledge regarding post-medieval glass. It was examined by Prof. Dawn Hadley
and Prof. Oliver Creighton, for whose insight and comments the author is extremely grateful.
Finally, thanks to David for his love, support and computer wizardry. I could not have done it
without you.
Abbreviations used within the text
AO= Athenae Oxonienses
CJ= Journal of the House of Commons
CWT= Civil War Tracts (Minster Library, York)
HMC=Royal Commission on Historical Manuscripts
HMSO= Her Majesty’s Stationery Office
HC= House of Commons
MPRG= Medieval Pottery Research Group
PRO= Public Records Office
RCHME= Royal Commission on Historical Monuments England
SP= Collection of State papers
SRO= Scottish Record Office
STC= Item included within Pollard and Redgrave’s Short-Title Catalogue
TT=Thomason Tract preserved at the British Library
Wing= Item included within Wing’s Short-Title Catalogue (1641-1700)
Table of Contents
Table of Contents
1 INTRODUCTION: A NEW APPROACH TO CASTLES
1.1 Thesis Aims
1.2 Thesis structure
1.3 The Role of Castles
1.3.1 Not just a pretty picture: the positivist approach
1.3.2 Playing at soldiers: the revisionist approach
1.3.3 The Battle for Bodiam
1.4 Revising the revisionist approach
1.4.1 Castle selection
1.4.2 Characterisation of defence
1.4.3 The Static Role of Castles
1.4.4 Elite interpretations
1.4.5 The need for a new approach
1.5 Beyond the Castle Gate: the biography of castles
1.6 Excavating biographies and material culture
1.7 Conclusion
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2 THE ROLE OF CASTLES DURING THE ENGLISH CIVIL WAR
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2.1 Introduction
2.2 The English Civil War: an introduction
2.3 An inconvenient truth I: the post-medieval castle within medieval studies
2.4 An inconvenient truth II: the post-medieval castle within Civil War studies.
2.5 The castle during the Civil War
2.6 The (un)changing role of castles
2.7 The biography of the Civil War castle
2.8 Selected sites
2.8.1 Eccleshall
2.8.2 Sandal
2.8.3 Pontefract
2.9 Conclusion
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3 THE CONSUMPTION OF FOOD, DRINK AND ASSOCIATED MATERIAL
CULTURE DURING THE ENGLISH CIVIL WAR
37
3.1 Consumption: an archaeological introduction
37
3.2 The English Irish Souldier: an introduction to the significance of food and drink during the English
Civil War.
38
3.2.1 Food and drink
39
3.2.2 Containers
39
th
3.3 Food and drink in the 17 Century
41
3.4 Food and Drink during the Civil War
42
3.4.1 Bread
43
3.4.2 Dairy products
44
3.4.3 Meat
45
3.4.4 Drink
47
3.5 Containers for consumption
48
3.5.1 Ceramics
49
3.5.2 Glass
52
3.5.3 Metal
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3.5.4 Bone, horn, ivory and leather
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3.5.5 Wood
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3.6 Consumption during the Civil War
3.6.1 Procurement of goods
3.6.2 Communal Consumption
3.7 Conclusion
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4 DESTRUCTION
63
4.1 Introduction: the case for a theory of deposition during the Civil War
4.2 Structured deposition
4.2.1 Site Formation Processes
4.2.2 Destruction and Abandonment
4.3 Destruction in the Civil War
4.3.1 Destruction: the documentary evidence
4.3.1.1 Destruction by siege
4.3.1.2 Victorious destruction
4.3.1.3 Pillage
4.3.2 Destruction: the archaeological evidence
4.3.2.1 Destruction by siege
4.3.2.2 Victorious destruction.
4.3.2.3 Pillage
4.4 Deposition
4.4.1 Deposition: the documentary evidence.
4.4.2 Deposition: the archaeological evidence.
4.5 Creating a biography of destruction
4.5.1 Site history
4.5.2 The origin of deposited material
4.5.3 The instigators of destruction
4.5.4 The composition of deposited material
4.5.5 The location of deposition
4.6 Destruction at the selected sites
4.6.1 Eccleshall
4.6.2 Sandal
4.6.3 Pontefract
4.7 Conclusion
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5 METHODOLOGY
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5.1 Introduction
5.2 Castle Selection
5.3 Recording of ceramic vessels
5.3.1 Estimated number of vessels
5.3.2 Number of sherds
5.3.3 Weight
5.3.4 Area and location
5.3.4.1 Eccleshall Castle
5.3.4.2 Sandal Castle
5.3.4.3 Pontefract Castle
5.3.5 Form
5.3.5.1 Sub-categories
5.3.6 Fabric
5.3.6.1 Principal Fabric types
5.3.6.1.1 Cistercian ware
5.3.6.1.2 Blackware
5.3.6.1.3 Transitional Cistercian/blackware
5.3.6.1.4 Yellow ware
5.3.6.1.5 Brown-glazed coarseware
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5.3.6.1.6 Redware and slipware
5.3.6.1.7 Tin-glazed earthenware
5.3.6.1.8 Rhenish stoneware
5.3.7 Glaze colour and glossiness
5.3.8 Number of handles
5.3.9 Percentage of vessel present
5.3.10 Sooting
5.3.11 Production notes
5.3.12 Decoration
5.3.13 Photography and illustration
5.4 Additional analysis of ceramic material
5.4.1 Cross-matching sherds
5.4.2 Fragmentation analysis
5.4.3 Form analysis
5.5 Customised analysis
5.5.1 Pontefract Castle
5.5.2 Sandal Castle
5.6 Glass vessels
5.7 Additional excavated material
5.7.1 Additional material culture
5.7.2 Ecological evidence
5.8 Use of written sources
5.9 Inter-site comparisons
5.10
Conclusion
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6 ECCLESHALL
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6.1 Introduction
6.2 Brief History of the Site
6.2.1 Excavations
6.3 The pottery
6.3.1 Cross-matching sherds
6.3.2 Distribution of vessels
6.3.3 Vessel analysis by form
6.3.3.1 The North Wall
6.3.3.2 The North-East Tower
6.3.4 Sooted vessels
6.3.5 Local fabrics
6.3.6 Non-local vessels
6.3.7 Out-dated vessels
6.4 Vessel Glass
6.4.1 Vessel form
6.4.2 Vessel Distribution
6.4.3 Dating
6.4.4 Origin of vessels
6.4.5 Comparison with other sites
6.5 Other items associated with food and drink
6.6 Evidence of foodstuffs
6.7 Holistic interpretation of material culture
6.8 Conclusion
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7 SANDAL
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7.1 Introduction
7.2 Brief history of the site and excavations
7.3 Sandal Castle: a social stronghold
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7.4 The pottery
7.4.1 The original analysis: reconfiguring the figures.
7.4.1.1 Distribution of vessels, a reinterpretation
7.4.1.2 Lack of material within the Barbican ditch
7.4.2 Cross-matching sherds
7.4.3 Vessel analysis by form
7.4.4 Sooted vessels
7.4.5 Local identities
7.4.6 Imported vessels
7.5 Vessel Glass
7.6 Other items associated with food and drink
7.7 Evidence of foodstuffs
7.8 Holistic interpretation of material culture
7.8.1 The motte
7.8.2 The workshop, kitchen and larder
7.8.3 The Great Hall
7.8.4 The Constable’s Lodgings
7.8.5 The drawbridge area
7.9 Conclusion
8 PONTEFRACT
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8.1 Introduction
8.2 Fortification
8.2.1 Building Function
8.3 Archaeological Excavations
8.4 The pottery
8.4.1 Assemblage fragmentation
8.4.2 Cross-matching sherds
8.4.2.1 Cross-matching sherds within the Constable Tower: a reassessment of phasing
8.4.3 Sooted vessels
8.4.4 Outdated material
8.4.5 Local identities
8.4.6 Imported vessels
8.4.7 Vessel form
8.4.7.1 The Constable Tower
8.4.7.1.1 Initial looting
8.4.7.1.1.1 Context 116
8.4.7.1.2 Subsequent clearance and demolition
8.4.7.2 Other areas: the King’s Tower, Kitchen, Elizabethan Tower and
Brewhouse/Bakehouse
8.5 Vessel Glass
8.6 Other items associated with food and drink
8.7 The faunal evidence
8.8 Discussion
8.8.1 Communality and conviviality, the case of context [116]
8.8.2 The preservation of tradition
8.9 Conclusion
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9 TRADITION AND CONVIVIALITY: SOCIAL DISCOURSE WITHIN CASTLES
DURING THE ENGLISH CIVIL WAR
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9.1 Introduction
9.2 The importance of tradition in the Civil War
9.3 The maintenance of tradition
9.4 The construction of tradition
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9.5 Tradition and conviviality
9.5.1 The Social Discourse of drinking
9.5.1.1 The construction of the Cavalier identity
9.5.2 The location of drinking
9.6 The need for closure, the destruction of tradition
9.7 Conclusion
10 CONCLUSION
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10.1
Fulfilment of Aims
10.1.1 The post-medieval castle
10.1.2 A biographical approach to castles
10.1.2.1 The biography of castles: the next chapter
10.2
Building for the future: new directions for a biographical approach
10.3
Further analysis of Civil War assemblages
10.3.1 The biography of the siege
10.3.2 The biography of occupation
10.4
Final remarks
BIBLIOGRAPHY
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1 Introduction
1
Introduction: a new approach to castles
‘Almost any question one may raise about castles has already been raised and answered’
(Brown 1969, 134)
Few buildings provoke an emotional response like the English castle. From their
depiction on the Bayeux tapestry to their prominence in the “Rose and Castle” motifs on
19th-century canal barges, they have long been a potent and adaptable symbol. This
flexibility in meaning has meant they have become obscured by modern definitions and
relating emotions, resulting in a scholarly conflict between champions of a castle’s
military function and supporters of its symbolic status. Proponents of the latter often
cite the low incidence of siege warfare in England and Wales during the later medieval
period, suggesting that at castles such as Raglan, modified during the late 15th century,
‘the ‘military’ view... is in retreat, but has yet to be finally killed off’ as such castles
were only ‘lightly fortified to protect against the endemic ‘casual violence’... rather than
a formal, full-scale siege’ (Johnson 2002, 84, 96). However, between 1642 and 1649
buildings used to support this argument, including Raglan, Tattershall and Wingfield
Manor to name but a few, were all invested with the ‘formal, full-scale siege’ they were
supposedly ill-equipped for. This 17th-century contradiction, caused by the English Civil
War, is often ignored or dismissed as an example of the primitive nature of the conflict,
but in fact highlights the way in which castles were multi-faceted institutions
encapsulating ideas of both status and defence.
As a result, a new, biographical approach to castles is essential to move beyond the
motivation surrounding the castle’s construction and instead focus on the castle as a
phenomenon which varied across time, space and the individuals who experienced it.
This concept, adopted from material culture theory, utilises objects consumed at castle
sites to demonstrate how a static architecture influenced, and in turn was influenced by,
the social discourse of its inhabitants. By studying the artefacts associated with eating
and drinking retrieved from Civil War siege sites it is possible to demonstrate the
importance the castle played in both the military and social interactions of the 17th
century.
1
1 Introduction
1.1
Thesis Aims
This thesis has two primary aims. First, it suggests a biographical approach to castles
which moves beyond the dichotomies of status or defence to appreciate how the
experience of the castle is multifaceted and dependent on temporal, spatial and social
contexts. Second, it addresses the neglect of the post-medieval castle as a social, as
opposed to military, entity through a study of activities which occurred here during the
English Civil War. These aims are fulfilled through the examination of Civil War
assemblages from three castles: Eccleshall in Staffordshire, and Sandal and Pontefract
in Yorkshire (see fig. 1.1). The holistic analysis of material culture associated with the
consumption of food and drink within these castles demonstrates the complexity of
social interactions during this period and the reliance placed upon communal
consumption in the creation and maintenance of a group identity. Finally, it highlights
the importance tradition played within the Civil War, particularly amongst Royalist
garrisons, and how this is demonstrated through the use and discard of artefacts at all
three sites.
1.2
Thesis structure
Although the three case studies provide the main focus of this thesis, these need to be
placed within a theoretical framework which establishes the biographical approach to
castles and situate the use of material culture at these sites within contemporary social
discourse. The present chapter outlines the current approaches to castle studies and
discusses why these are insufficient to fully comprehend the castle’s complexity. It
proposes and outlines an alternative biographical approach that utilises material culture
to appreciate the changing interpretations of the castle through time, space and social
context. Although only one aspect of a complete biography, the use of the castle during
the 17th century highlights the need for such an approach (chapter 2) and provides many
suitable case studies to test this methodology, including the three presented here.
As a castle biography is reliant on the consumption of material culture, the following
chapter (chapter 3) discusses the application of material culture theory to castle
biographies before highlighting the active role played by food, drink and associated
artefacts during the mid-17th century and the Civil War in particular. However, most of
the Civil War assemblages retrieved from castle sites were deposited not by the
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1 Introduction
besieged but by those responsible for the slighting of castles in the aftermath of the
conflict. As a result, the destruction of material culture during the conflict is considered
(chapter 4), particularly in reference to the three case studies. The unique motivations
for destruction at all three castles demonstrates the need for a site-specific approach
when analysing both the occupation and abandonment of fortified sites during this
period.
As the analysis of social discourse requires a holistic approach to material culture, the
methodology employed avoids traditional approaches to facilitate the examination of an
entire assemblage as opposed to a particular material type (chapter 5). Emphasising
evidence of use over evidence of origin, the methodology identifies non-residual
vessels, and facilitates a comparison of all material types within and between features.
This is then employed at three siege sites, Eccleshall (chapter 6), Sandal (chapter 7) and
Pontefract (chapter 8) to examine social discourse at each castle during the conflict.
Although there are significant differences between these sites, the considerable amount
of archaic material culture at all castles demonstrates the need for continuity and
tradition within garrisons, a phenomenon discussed in chapter 9. Finally, the conclusion
(chapter 10) summarises the thesis findings and suggests ways in which the approach
could be further employed to promote the concept of castle biographies.
1.3
The Role of Castles
The heated debate over the role of the castle, epitomised by recent articles in Medieval
Archaeology (Platt 2007; Creighton and Liddiard 2008), focuses on whether castles
were predominantly defensive or were instead symbols of lordly power and status.
Designated “the Battle for Bodiam” after the castle of the same name in East Sussex,
emphasis is placed on the construction of architecture and the surrounding landscape to
highlight elements which support either side of the argument. Although the deadlock
between these two viewpoints continues, recent scholars have highlighted the need for
alternative approaches which transcend the current stalemate to appreciate the castle as
a complex institution with multiple meanings and interpretations (Creighton 2008, 88).
However, before the need for an alternative methodology is discussed, it is first
necessary to understand the current approaches used and the two factions in the Battle
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1 Introduction
for Bodiam; the positivists, who support a martial interpretation of castles and the
relativists, who prefer to see the castle as an elite status symbol.
1.3.1 Not just a pretty picture: the positivist approach
The earliest studies of the castle (e.g. Clark 1884; Armitage 1912; Braun 1948; Allen
Brown 1954) agreed unequivocally with the Oxford English Dictionary (second edition)
definition of the castle as ‘a large building or set of buildings fortified for defence
against an enemy; a fortress, stronghold’. As a result, initial studies confirmed the castle
as an essentially feudal and military institution, an interpretation which influences a
large number of castellologists to the present day (Thompson 1994, 444, examples
include Warner 1971; Reid 1973; Wilkinson 1973; Platt 1982 2007; Cathcart King
1988). Positivists suggest that, during a period of endemic warfare, castles were built as
an alternative to the raising and maintenance of large armies which were more
expensive and lacked the chivalric and feudal symbolism of the castle (Brauer and van
Tuyll 2008, 70-72). Castles are also viewed as part of an evolution from hillforts
towards modern warfare, with architecture such as gun ports at Bodiam showing their
adaptation to the latest technology (Jones 1999, 166). Even when accepting the
decreased martial presence of castles during the later medieval period, some scholars
see their residential role as largely subsidiary to their defensive function (e.g. O’Neil
1960; Warner 1971; Bottomley 1979; Pettifer 1995), whilst others emphasise their
continued martial symbolism (e.g. Turner 1986; Allen Brown 1989). As a result, a
military function is deemed to be the key dividing line between castles and fortified
manor houses, albeit a distinction that becomes increasingly blurred over time (Kightly
1979, 142).
The positivist interpretation of castles suggests that, as essentially military structures,
these buildings accordingly possess a specific architecture which can be differentiated
from ecclesiastical and other secular buildings, and by which they can be described and
classified (e.g. Clark 1884; Armitage 1912; Toy 1963). As they have such an obvious
role, castles are often described rather than interpreted, aided in part by the wider
neglect of castles by historians who fail to provide a context in which to interpret them
(Allen Brown 1989, 1). As a result other works, including D.J.C. King’s Castellarium
Anglicanum (1983), exclude from their analysis all buildings which do not meet strict
4
1 Introduction
military criteria, thus ‘the term does not extend to fortified towns or fortified
monasteries’ (King 1983, xv; see also Clark 1884; Allen Brown 1954). The emphasis on
architectural form and ground plans has had a heavy influence on subsequent
interpretations, with much of the criticism surrounding this approach focussed on these
two areas.
1.3.2 Playing at soldiers: the revisionist approach
From the 1960s onwards the primacy of defence in the interpretation of castles came
under increasing attack from both historians (e.g. Coulson 1979; 1994) and
archaeologists (e.g. Stocker 1993), as a result of which it was claimed that ‘the social
purposes of fortresses almost always comprehended and transcended their military
functions’ (Coulson 1979, 74). In other words, whilst a castle might look like a fortress
its symbolism was intended to impress and deter elite visitors rather than act as a
meaningful defence (see also Fradley 2006). Although there are still proponents who
see the true castle as being both a house and a fortress, with later castles being seen as
fake or ‘show’ castles due to their emphasis on comfort over defence (e.g. Gilchrist
1999, 238), increasingly the architecture used to define the evolution of castle design is
deemed to have a largely symbolic basis, as demonstrated at Orford (Heslop 1991). In
addition, castellologists have widened their study of castles to understand the use of
space within these structures (e.g. Richardson 2003; Fradley 2006) and their setting
within the wider landscape (e.g. Creighton 2002).
Proponents of the revisionist stance emphasise the context in which the castle was built,
thus later medieval castles were predominantly symbolic as improved siegecraft made
their defensive role defunct (Coulson 1979, 82). Analysis of licences to crenellate,
originally used to establish a chronology for buildings, showed that these were used by
the elite to emphasise their status as opposed to strengthen their walls, with monasteries,
town houses and even a garden wall being granted licences alongside castles (Coulson
1994, 90-94). The castellation of a building is thus seen as an ornamentation and status
symbol as opposed to a deliberate attempt at fortification, the very word ‘castle’ being
imported into the English language to reflect a dominant social group as opposed to a
specific set of architecture (Wheatley 2001, 32). Thus it is predominantly prestige that
governed the construction and crenellation of Raglan (Coulson 1979, 80), despite this
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1 Introduction
building withstanding Parliamentarian attack for four years during the Civil War (Gaunt
1987, 186-8). Although it is acknowledged in some instances that violence may have
influenced the choice of design (e.g. Fradley 2006, 175), it is often argued that martial
architecture does not necessarily constitute defensible architecture.
1.3.3 The Battle for Bodiam
The debate between those who propose a defensive role for castles and those who
support their inception as symbols of status has been named the ‘Battle for Bodiam’
after Bodiam Castle in East Sussex, as it was debate surrounding this castle that caused
marked division between castellologists (e.g. Coulson 1992; Liddiard 2005; Platt 2007).
Although its picturesque setting had been noted for many years, it was seen as the
archetypal medieval castle by positivists who drew attention to its ‘strong corners and
flanking towers firing over a wide moat’ (Warner 1971, 233). However, a detailed
critique of the military interpretation suggested that the poor positioning of gun and
arrow loops, the absence of flanking towers and lack of defences protecting the moat’s
dam demonstrated that the castle was meant for chivalric display as opposed to serious
defence. This was supported by studies of the landscape which indicated that the
landscape and moat were designed for aesthetics as opposed to defence (Taylor et al.
1990; Everson 1996; Liddiard 2005, 7-10).
Although this interpretation has been vigorously challenged by those supporting its
defensive merits (e.g. Platt 2007), the use of Bodiam as the cause celèbre of revisionists
(e.g. Stocker 1993, 418) is misleading. Despite strong opposition (e.g. Turner 1986),
Bodiam had already been described in the past as a fortified manor house (Braun 1948,
106), a palace-castle as opposed to a castle-palace (Clark 1884, 4) and an old soldier’s
dream house (Hohler 1966). As such, any critique of Bodiam’s defensive capabilities,
however comprehensive, cannot be applied unequivocally to other castles of the period;
whilst its aesthetics make it an obvious target for argument and counter-argument, they
also mean it may not be typical of the majority of castles (Coulson 2003, 8). Despite
this, the alternative view of castles offered by revisionists is extremely attractive,
suggesting as it does that castles are not predominately military (Coulson 1994, 86).
However, such a critique fails to take into account the castle’s subsequent use, as even
though a building may be defensively viable within modern interpretations, this does
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1 Introduction
not mean that it could not, given the right circumstances, be used as a defensive
structure (see below, 2.5). Consequently, emphasis on revisionism in castles may have
shifted the argument too much onto aspects of status, obscuring some of the subtleties
of castles that were a key part of their interpretation in the past.
1.4
Revising the revisionist approach
The entrenched stance between positivists and revisionists has created a strong tendency
by both sides to take extreme stances on the role of castles and there is still intense
debate (e.g. Platt 2007) despite recent work taking a more balanced view (e.g. Creighton
2002; Creighton and Liddiard 2008). However, just as the methods and approaches used
by positivists were analysed by revisionists, it is now appropriate to analyse current
approaches to castles to suggest why these are insufficient to fully appreciate the
complexity of castles and the way in which they were viewed. These reasons broadly
fall into four areas: the selection of castles for analysis, the characterisation of defensive
or indefensible features, static interpretations of the role of the castle and the emphasis
on elite interpretations.
1.4.1 Castle selection
Although some castellologists are explicit about the motivations behind their chosen
corpus of sites (Johnson 2002, 15), all too often studies focus on castles that have been
selected on the basis of their preservation or situation. Although there are exceptions,
such as the early 14th-century Keep at Knaresborough (Dixon 1990), it is no coincidence
that the majority of castles used in modern debates tend to be English Heritage
properties located in the south of the country and with a high degree of preservation (see
for example the analysis of Orford Castle, Heslop 1991). Thus selected sites, such as
Kenilworth (Johnson 2002, 136-160), Bodiam (Coulson 1992; Johnson 2002, 19-30)
and Cooling (Johnson 2002, xiii-xix), may be exceptions to castle architecture rather
than the norm. This is a hazardous approach, as whilst warfare may not have been of
primary concern for some castles, this does not negate a defensive function for others.
Even though it is highly likely that warfare was never the sole reason for building a
castle this does not mean it was not of primary concern in some instances. Therefore,
the determination of the role of the castle on the basis of a few examples is extremely
risky.
7
1 Introduction
1.4.2 Characterisation of defence
As noted at Raglan castle (see above, introduction), the motivation behind the
construction of a castle is often deemed to determine its subsequent use; therefore, a
castle built in a period or area of little conflict is likely to be of symbolic, rather than
defensive, value (Coulson 1979, 90). Similarly architectural features at Bodiam can be
described as being non-defensive and ‘impossible to use effectively’ and thus
constructed as a private joke of the elite (Johnson 2002, 29). However, whilst
castellologists may view a building as indefensible, potential defenders or attackers may
not have interpreted it in the same way. For example, whether Bodiam was indefensible
in practice matters little, ‘what was important was whether Sir Edward or his potential
attackers saw the castle as sufficiently defensible’ (Turner 1986, 277). It is no
coincidence that the same gunports at Bodiam have been interpreted both as defensive
(Platt 2007) and indefensible (Coulson 1992; Johnson 2002, 29) dependent on the
observer, as the characterisation of features is one of the key arguments by positivists
and revisionists; if a castle can be defended, it was built for this purpose, if it cannot be
defended, then its primary purpose must have been as a status symbol.
Analyses can also be based around flawed judgements. For example, the main audience
chamber at Knaresborough is deemed to be ‘very simple’ to focus the visitors’ attention
on the lord (Dixon 1990, 127). However, what may appear a plain room to modern
scholars is highly unlikely to have been so in the past as portable material culture such
as furniture and tapestries could easily transform a plain room into a magnificent one
(Woolgar 1999, 73). Similarly, whilst spatial analyses of buildings may demonstrate
how people might have moved around them and suggest a hierarchy of experience (e.g.
Richardson 2003), by itself it cannot do more than suggest how the elite intended a
building and wider landscape to be used rather than how it was used in reality.
Whilst it would be misleading to deny that there were strong stylistic and iconographic
traditions behind the construction of castles, the negation of their defensive role is to the
detriment of castle studies as a whole. Revisionists often use the inability of castles to
withstand sieges as evidence for their stance (e.g. Creighton and Liddiard 2008, 162),
yet this is clearly challenged by the events of the English Civil War (see below, 2.3).
Therefore, to say a castle was not intended to be defensive because it could not
8
1 Introduction
withstand a sustained siege is misunderstanding the motivations behind their creation,
as castles were designed to be a deterrent rather than a long-term fortress (Coulson
2003, 121). Many buildings never had to face heavy bombardment (Kightly 1979, 1823) and, in addition, the construction of earthworks could quickly strengthen a
stronghold’s defence and be just as successful against cannon as masonry, leading to
many sieges becoming prolonged and tedious (Gaunt 1991, 18; Hutton and Reeves
1998, 203; Humphrys 2007, 80-1).
The interpretation of castles on the basis of architecture also assumes that this was the
dominant factor in determining their definition and use to the detriment of alternative
evidence. Castles were intended to be theatrical backdrops (Dixon 1990, 127), yet the
actors themselves may have played very different roles within the castle and viewed it
in a very different light to that intended by its builders. Whilst these undoubtedly played
a key role, the emphasis on architecture and location in the landscape detracts from
other evidence that demonstrates the meaning of castles is far subtler than can be seen
through these two approaches alone. Indeed, during the medieval period, ‘castrum’,
literally ‘camp’ in Latin, could refer to castles, monasteries, Roman marching camps,
town houses, city walls, warships and artillery forts (Liddiard 2005, 40; Coulson 2003,
29-30). Therefore, by attempting to separate the ‘real’ from the ‘fake’ castle, we
completely misunderstand how these buildings were interpreted in the past.
As landscape scholars themselves point out, there is great difficulty in ascertaining
when a landscape was fabricated and whether this was in conjunction with the
development of the castle (Creighton 2002, 83). However, there has been a tendency to
describe a landscape as deliberately designed when the finished product suggests a
desire to display wealth and status as opposed to a conscious attempt to display a castle
in a particular way (Liddiard and Williamson 2008, 533). For example, the “Gun
Garden” at Bodiam is suggested as a viewing platform to survey the magnificence of
the castle (Taylor et al. 1990, 157), yet there is limited archaeological evidence for this
and its asymmetrical placement with respect to the castle suggests its view may have
been less deliberate than has previously been assumed (Hurst 1962-3, 334-5; Platt 2007,
89; Liddiard and Williamson 2008, 524).
9
1 Introduction
Ultimately the determinism of features is symptomatic of a wider weakness of current
studies, which suggest that the way in which a castle is conceived is the same as the
way in which it was universally interpreted by everyone throughout time and space,
irrespective of social factors such as age, gender and social status. This stance, in which
the motivations of the builder determine all subsequent interpretations, is particularly
restrictive when interpreting the role of castles in the past.
1.4.3 The Static Role of Castles
Although there can be little doubt that castles were built with symbolism in mind, the
emphasis by castellologists on the motivations of the elite in the construction of their
castles means that only one interpretation of the castle is achieved, that of a very small
elite minority at one particular point in time. However, to suggest that the interpretation
of castles is static and is unaffected by time and space is misleading. Bodiam castle may
have been built in one phase (Coulson 1992, 54), but this does not necessitate a single
phase of use, or even that the way in which it was conceived by Sir Edward
Dallingridge was how it was perceived in the following centuries or by his
contemporaries from a different social background. As O’ Keeffe (2001, 76) notes, ‘the
‘meaning’ of the architecture can and does change.’ In addition, current approaches rely
on the surviving architecture and landscape being an accurate representation of the past.
Thus at Bodiam although ‘much of the interior… and an uncertain but considerable
amount of masonry, have disappeared’ (Coulson 1992, 67), it is still supposedly
possible to reconstruct the perceptions of those who experienced the castle at the point
of its inception from the remaining masonry, particularly the towers and outer walls.
Whilst it may be true that licences to crenellate increased in times of peace rather than
war (Coulson 1994, 111), they deflect from the study of how castles were subsequently
experienced. As can be seen during the English Civil War (see 2.5), a castle originally
conceived as a symbol of status can be deemed an effective fortress given the
appropriate social context. To focus on the castle at the moment of its inception is to
create a static interpretation of architecture which does not allow for different
interpretations over time; however, it is highly unlikely that a castle keep constructed in
the 13th century is interpreted in the same way by the 15th century. For example, studies
of the outer bailey at Kuuisto Castle, Finland have shown that it was originally used as a
10
1 Introduction
rose garden before increased warfare and a worsening climate led to its probable
destruction in the 16th century (Uotila 2004). As a result, a contextualised approach is
required in which the interpretation of castles is allowed to alter over time. Although
this is briefly mentioned by Johnson (1999a, 72) in his interpretation of Wressle Castle
in Yorkshire, the argument then returns to a debate on the motivations of its creators as
opposed to a discussion about the changing interpretation of buildings over time.
1.4.4 Elite interpretations
Landscape approaches often seek to move towards the inclusion of people within the
landscape, but they all too often focus on a particular type of person, namely the elite
constructor of the castle. However, a study of the constructor’s intentions is not enough
to fully appreciate how castles participated in social discourse as it is highly doubtful
that the elite interpretation of a castle, if indeed a single elite interpretation existed, was
accepted or understood by the majority of people. It is notable that Johnson’s visitor to
Bodiam is a knight, whose motivations and interpretations are apparently easily
understood (Johnson 2002, 30), as opposed to the ‘everyday’ experiences of the nonelite occupants who formed the majority of those who experienced castles, particularly
during an era when itinerant households meant the nobility were absent from their
estates for long periods of time (Woolgar 1999). As such, the castle was only
occasionally witness to elite lifestyles, instead being occupied more usually by diverse
non-elite communities. Therefore, there is a problem in trying to reconcile
‘chronologically differentiated synaesthetic experiences’, as one critic terms it (Fleming
2006, 273). In other words, people removed in time or by social conditions such as age,
class or gender will view and interpret the landscape differently. That is not to say that
landscape studies are redundant, but by themselves they cannot offer a complete
understanding of how the castle was interpreted and experienced in the past. As a result,
new approaches are needed which not only complement landscape studies but also
recognise social, spatial and temporal differences in the interpretation of buildings and
their settings. Just as there is a damaging paradox in some medieval studies between
medieval ecclesiastical culture for the elite and secular culture for the lower orders
(Heslop 1991, 36), so too there is an equally damaging paradox in castles between noble
architecture and peasant experience.
11
1 Introduction
The failure to produce a complex interpretation of castles is part of a wider problem
with phenomenological interpretations of the landscape. The experiences that shape the
human mind are complex and multifaceted so it is impossible to convey a single
conception of a particular landscape by those who experience it because, just as
landscapes are contested in the present, so they were in the past (Bender 2002; Brück
2005, 61). Therefore, whilst landscape and architectural studies elucidate how castles
were central places, economic centres and ‘badges of wealth or status’ (Creighton 2002,
223), they often fail to engage with the majority of people who experienced castles.
1.4.5 The need for a new approach
Although the differences between revisionist and positivist approaches have yet to be
truly reconciled (e.g. Platt 2007), castellologists are increasingly moving towards a
more diffuse meaning of castles in which the dichotomy of status or defence is deemed
to be false (e.g. Coulson 2003; Liddiard 2005; Creighton 2008; Creighton and Liddiard
2008). As Austin (1984, 69) states, ‘can we genuinely understand the meaning of the
castle today without knowing how the contemporary mind viewed it?’ In his critique of
Bodiam, Coulson (1992, 96) notes that the contemporary meaning of the word castle
was complex and not necessarily the same as ours. This fits into a wider criticism of
phenomenology as even though archaeologists may see a relationship between
architecture and perceiver as significant, this may not have been recognised or deemed
significant by those in the past (Brück 2005, 51). Therefore, there is a need to move
beyond the military context of castles to examine the social discourse conducted within
their walls. This has been initialised for other forms of monumental buildings, such as
monasteries (e.g. Gilchrist 1997), but castles, despite limited functional analyses (e.g.
Richardson 2003), lag some way behind.
One commentator on castles in the post-medieval world examines ‘the value of castles
to communities in their substantial phases of ‘non-castle’ usage’ (Speight 2008, 385).
However, this implies that there is a separate ‘castle’ usage which, as has been argued,
is by no means certain. Rather than separate the medieval from the post-medieval, the
functional from the romantic, we must instead consider the application of modern
meanings and categories to castles when their interpretation in the past is so clearly at
variance with our own. As noted above, the medieval understanding of castra took
12
1 Introduction
many different forms, despite only a handful of these being recognisable as castles
under current definitions (see 1.4.2). It is our own fixed ideas of the castle which have
given rise to the arguments of defence against status, an argument which would have
been alien and nonsensical to those who inhabited castles in the past. Therefore, instead
of distinguishing between “castles” and “non-castles” each structure should be studied
according to the temporal and spatial context in which it had a role.
Just as the buildings that could be defined as castles in the past were many, so the
people who viewed them came from a wealth of different backgrounds and experiences.
As such, it is imperative to move beyond the single contemporary mind of many current
interpretations and instead begin to differentiate and reconstruct a plethora of
complementary and conflicting contemporary viewpoints (Austin 1984, 69). Landscape
and architectural approaches can only contribute so much without descending into a
simplistic debate between status and defence. Although the landscape may be the most
important source of information about the relationship between a castle and its
surroundings (Creighton 2002, 9), in order to understand the relationship between a
castle and its inhabitants a much broader approach is necessary. Some castles, such as
Launceston, were occupied for over 900 years (Saunders 2006, 455) and it is highly
unlikely that the way in which they were viewed remained static throughout this period.
Therefore, an approach is needed which facilitates an adaptable interpretation of the
castle which can change through time, space and social context.
1.5
Beyond the Castle Gate: the biography of castles
Recent studies have demonstrated how the castle was a flexible concept in the medieval
period, encapsulating many shifting and complex ideologies including civic,
ecclesiastical and imperial identities and even being synonymous with female virginity
and chastity (Wheatley 2001; 2004; Landewé 2010). Studies of castles in the postmedieval period demonstrate that castles have particular relevance in terms of national,
military and local identities depending on the context in which they are viewed; ‘they
are never neutral’ (Speight 2008, 388). As how a castle was used defined its purpose
rather than its architecture (Coulson 2003, 48), examining the idea of the castle offers a
new approach in which castles are defined not by their walls and landscape, but instead
by their social significance (O’ Keeffe 2001; Wheatley 2004).
13
1 Introduction
In order to appreciate the complexity of the castle, it is first necessary to develop a new
approach that facilitates a flexible, multi-faceted interpretation. One such method is the
application of object biographies, which suggests that objects can have different
meanings throughout their life cycle dependent on the context in which they are used
(Koptyoff 1986; Gosden and Marshall 1999). Far from being sterile (Austin 1984, 72),
artefacts are instead active, possessing multi-layered meanings which change and
develop depending on temporal and spatial contexts and the people with whom they
interact (e.g. Moreland 1999; Holtorf 2002; Miller 2002). Through treating castles as
active, rather than passive, institutions they are allowed to develop their own
significance rather than having modern interpretations imposed upon them. Such an
approach does not interpret buildings solely on the basis of present-day landscape or
architecture but instead explores how contemporaries view and experience them. As a
result, it is possible for a building to be viewed variously as a mansion, fortified manor
and castle without any architectural change and solely depending on who experiences it
and when.
The biography of castles, defined as ‘a history of events and relationships that it has
participated in’ (Rakoczy 2007, 4), has previously been explored by scholars such as
Matthew Johnson (2002). However, a biography is far more complex than an analysis of
buildings or landscapes and encompasses more than a description of events. It includes
the way in which contemporaries of all social backgrounds viewed the castle and the
way it participated in particular social discourses. As such the development of a castle’s
biography is extremely complex, but the result is a far richer understanding of how
these buildings were viewed in the past.
1.6
Excavating biographies and material culture
Although castles are starting to be seen as multi-faceted institutions, the approaches
used have often seen them in terms of how they were intended to be viewed, as opposed
to how they were actually used. The constructors of a castle may have intended it as an
education for the ordinary person (Coulson 1979, 76), but is this how it was in fact
perceived? As a result, studying the biography of castles requires a holistic
methodology in which landscape and architectural studies must be combined with other
approaches including documentary research and archaeological excavation.
14
1 Introduction
Just as the application of object biographies has much to offer castellology, so the study
of material culture retrieved from archaeological excavations offers a new approach to
castle studies in which the distribution of artefacts around a site can suggest how castles
were involved in social discourse. Whilst the need to integrate material culture from
castles with their interpretation has been recognised (Creighton and Liddiard 2008,
166), there have been very few studies demonstrating how this might be achieved. One
rare example comes from the castle of Middelburg-in-Flanders, Belgium (de Clercq et
al. 2007) where excavations of garderobe deposits relating to sieges of the SpanishDutch war in the late 16th to early 17th centuries demonstrated that consumption patterns
amongst different social groups were maintained despite disruption to supply routes.
Such an approach is governed by the artefacts that people used and disposed of on a
daily basis. Rather than elite architecture, these objects consist of the lowest material
categories, including wood and pottery, which would be used by the lower orders of
society. This facilitates insights into how non-elite groups viewed the castle, something
notoriously difficult under current approaches (Liddiard 2005, 147). Furthermore, as
material culture changes more rapidly than the buildings in which it was consumed, it is
possible to see how the social discourse at a site changed whilst the architecture
remained static. For example, at Sandal, the distribution of medieval pottery could be
used to show a change in site use over time and with appropriate research techniques it
is possible to obtain a meaningful interpretation of the ways in which castles
participated in social discourse in the past (Moorhouse 1983a, 169-173). However, to
apply this approach more widely it is necessary to develop research strategies that
utilise existing excavation records as well as proposing possible new sites for future
excavation.
The approach of large-scale excavation is an expensive one (Austin 1984), but is vital if
we are to fully appreciate the significance these monuments had in past societies. A
recent study of excavations of castle sites since 1956 (Creighton 2008) shows that these
are by no means restricted in number. However, the extensive excavations required for
the advocated approach are becoming increasingly rare, with small watching briefs
becoming the normal method of intervention (Creighton 2002, 10). These aim to
elucidate the architectural plans of buildings with little attempt to date the uncovered
15
1 Introduction
remains or place them in a wider social context (Austin 1984, 72; Creighton 2002, 9).
Thus whilst the number of landscape studies has increased, identifying a large number
of sites which are yet to be fully understood, the volume of excavations to understand
them has decreased; as Creighton (2008, 82-4) states, ‘large-scale well-funded research
excavations across a carefully sampled range of sites might be desirable…but are
simply not very likely’.
There are, however, a significant number of exceptions to this, particularly sites which
were excavated during the mid to late 20th century. These include Launceston (Saunders
1989), Pontefract (Roberts 2002a) and Sandal (Mayes and Butler 1983), although as
with many excavations the published reports of these sites lagged several years, and in
some cases decades, behind the completion of excavations. Different problems pervade
other sites, such as the extensive excavations at Dudley where the excavations remain
largely unpublished (see 10.3), and at others, such as Stafford (Soden 2007), the reports
were produced by teams who had little if any association with the original excavation.
Multiple small-scale excavations, such as those at Wallingford (Christie et al. 2003, 9;
Creighton 2008, 84; Christie and Creighton 2013), also require synthesis alongside the
large volume of grey literature concerning small interventions at many castle sites. Even
where castles have been subject to clearance by the Ministry of Works as opposed to
systematic excavation, analysis of the resultant assemblages is sometimes possible, as
demonstrated by Andrew Morrison’s work at Helmsley Castle, North Yorkshire
(Harrington 2005, 108, see fig. 1.2). As with the study of landscape, material culture is
not an appropriate approach for all sites, but this does not mean it should summarily
dismissed as, given the right conditions, it has huge potential.
The focus on landscape archaeology as a tool in the interpretation of castles has led
increasingly to the castle being situated in a wider geographical context (e.g. Higham
and Barker 2000, 141-57). However, despite occasional instances of material culture
being used to demonstrate the wider links between elite estates (e.g. Moorhouse 1983b),
this approach largely examines landscape features as opposed to excavated material and
reports usually deal with structural remains, omitting material culture for any purpose
other than dating (Creighton 2008, 85). When artefacts are discussed, there is a
preference towards gaming pieces, militaria and other household objects (e.g. Gaimster
et al. 1996), supposedly because these can ‘provide an altogether more informative
16
1 Introduction
picture of life within castle walls than can be given by coins and pottery’ (Kenyon 1990,
163). As a result, castle studies still give the impression that they are ground plan and
landscape orientated with finds, if they are discussed, divorced from the main body of
material.
Where excavated material is incorporated into the interpretation of castles, it is likely to
be faunal evidence as opposed to other types of material culture such as ceramics. In
one publication on castles, whilst environmental archaeology is demonstrated to give
many insights into the economic and environmental context of castle life, there is scant
mention of other excavated material, even in the directions for future research
(Creighton 2002, 224-8). To some extent this reflects the nature of a publication
emphasising the placement of castles within their landscape, yet whilst studies of faunal
remains at Launceston (Albarella and David 1996), Dudley (Thomas 2005) and Barnard
Castle (Donaldson et al. 1980) have proved fruitful, by themselves they cannot explain
the way in which castles were used and experienced by those who inhabited them.
1.7
Conclusion
The castle cannot be seen as a straightforward symbol either of military strength or
social status, but is instead an amalgamation of a variety of conflicting identities and
ideals which are belied by the relatively static nature of its architecture. A castle is not a
castle because an armchair archaeologist has said it conforms to a specific set of criteria;
it is instead a castle because the people who experience it on a daily basis say it is a
castle. The challenge to those who study the castle is to interpret it in its own terms
rather than those we choose for it.
As Liddiard (2005, 11) states, ‘castles are, fundamentally, about people, those who built
and experienced them.’ It is how to understand that experience which should be the
primary concern of castellology in the future. Landscape approaches are to be valued,
especially ones that realise the complexity of those who experienced it. However, they
can only go so far, and the emphasis will always be placed on the inception of landscape
as opposed to its consequent use. The design of castles was certainly meant to be
symbolic (Heslop 1991, 54), but this does not mean that such buildings could not be
defended when required. The principal problem with trying to interpret the role of
17
1 Introduction
castles lies in how we define a castle in the first place. If we define it on the basis of its
architecture, the result is not only a highly restrictive category, in which the inclusion of
some examples such as Bodiam can be controversial, but also a static category that is
unable to react to temporal and spatial variation and differences in social interpretation.
Material culture has a great deal to offer the field of castle studies, but the challenge is
to use it to interpret deposits rather than as dating evidence, a purpose for which it is
poorly suited (Moorhouse 1986, 85; Courtney 2001, 109). By placing material culture at
the forefront as opposed to the rear of castle studies, it is possible to gain a deeper
understanding of this most complex of institutions. Having outlined the biographical
approach, the next chapter will discuss the reasons why the use of castles during the
Civil War not only highlights the need for such an approach but also presents a unique
opportunity to apply this methodology to the archaeological record.
18
2 The Role of Castles
2
The Role of Castles during the English Civil War
‘Castles are at once the best known and least understood of medieval buildings’ (Allen
Brown 1989, 1)
2.1
Introduction
By determining the post-medieval study of castles to be ‘inappropriate’ (Kenyon 1990,
203), a paradox has been created between the revisionist interpretation of castles as
defensively weak social symbols and the 17th-century reality, when a large number were
put to military use and required a large investment of manpower or cannon to assault
successfully (Cathcart King 1988, 29). Thus Raglan can be described as being built
when the military motivation for castle construction was ‘in retreat’ (Johnson 2002, 84)
or as ‘one of the last great castles of medieval Britain’ (Gaunt 1987, 186), depending on
the focus of study. These two interpretations are clearly incompatible, but the divide
between medieval and post-medieval schools of thought means this problem has yet to
be resolved. This often leads to the use of the castle during the Civil War being ignored
entirely, with focus placed instead on their role as romantic icons from the 18th century
onwards (e.g. Austin 1984; Speight 2008; although see Rakoczy 2007). Such a divide is
clearly detrimental to academic study and therefore it is imperative that the role of these
buildings during the 17th century is reinstated into the wider field of castle studies.
The 17th-century fortification of buildings traditionally considered as castles alongside
mansions, moated manor houses and converted abbeys highlights the complexity
surrounding the definition of a castle during this period. Rather than interpreting the use
of castles during the Civil War as an anomaly, this study proves the exact opposite as
the definition of a castle remained just as complex during the conflict as it was in
previous centuries. As a result, the examination of social discourse within castles during
the Civil War has much wider implications concerning the role of castles within both
medieval and post-medieval society. In addition, the deposition of significant amounts
of material culture at garrison sites after the conflict provides an ideal opportunity to
19
2 The Role of Castles
demonstrate the benefits gained through a biographical approach, as will be seen at the
three sites selected for study in this thesis.
2.2
The English Civil War: an introduction
It is impossible to underestimate the social and physical impact the English Civil War
had on England and its neighbouring countries. It has been estimated that between 1642
and 1651, around 84,738 people were killed in England and Wales as a direct result of
warfare, with a further estimated 100,000 dying as a result of disease. This represents
3.6% of an estimated total population of 5 million and does not include injured or
maimed civilians and soldiers (Carlton 1991, 18-20). Not until modern times is it
possible to find a suitable parallel, when an estimated 1.75% of the British population
(around 740,000 people) were killed in World War I in a conflict which did not take
place on English soil (Dumas and Vedel-Petersen 1923, 145; Winter 1977, 450-451).
The catastrophic loss of life in the Civil War eclipsed previous civil conflicts such as the
Anarchy and the Wars of the Roses and was accompanied by immense social change.
By the end of January 1649, England was without a monarch for the first time since the
Anglo-Saxon period and the monumental architecture of England was altered forever as
castles and other high status residences were systematically destroyed.
The conflict, also referred to as the English Civil Wars, the English Revolution, the War
of the Three Kingdoms or the English Wars of Religion, was a series of skirmishes,
sieges and set-piece battles which affected almost every corner of the kingdom 1. The
term ‘English Civil War’ is a misnomer as the war was waged across Scotland, Wales,
Ireland and England in three distinct phases, 1642-1647, 1648-1649 and 1649-1651 (see
fig. 2.1). The causes and tactics employed during the three conflicts have been subject
to extensive study by historians and were demonstrably different in the way they were
1
The English Revolution often refers to the broad social and political change of which the conflict was a
part, e.g. Hill 1955; Stone 1972; Morrill 1993. MacInnes (2005) adopts the title The British Revolution.
See also The English Revolution and the Wars in the Three Kingdoms (Gentles 2007), which
differentiates between the Civil War and the wider socio-political context. The discord between the many
denominations of Christianity is highlighted by scholars who prefer to refer to the conflict as the Wars of
Religion (e.g. Prior and Burgess 2011).
20
2 The Role of Castles
conducted. Although any discussion of these within this thesis would be a great
simplification of extremely complex events, a brief outline of the war is required to
highlight the participation of castles during the conflict.
i.
The first Civil War (1642-1647). War had become increasingly inevitable in the
months leading to August 1642, when Charles I formally raised his standard at
Nottingham to call for volunteers to fight his Parliamentarian opponents. In the
resulting war, which ended in March 1647 with the surrender of Harlech castle,
counties across the country were embroiled in a conflict that set neighbour
against neighbour and led to large tracts of the country being damaged through
pillage and disease. Although the conflict is noted for its battles, most notably
Edgehill (1642), Marston Moor (1644) and Naseby (1645), in reality the
majority of the fighting occurred within the less glamorous context of sieges and
small skirmishes (Harrington 2005, 1; Hutton and Reeves 1998, 195). As a
result, this phase saw the greatest use of castles during the Civil War, with many
slighted after their surrender.
ii.
The second Civil War (1648-1649) was caused in part by Scottish and
Presbyterian dissent with Parliament. As many Royalists rigorously obeyed the
oaths they had given to Parliament to never rebel again, strong resistance was
only found in small areas of the country including Kent, Essex and Yorkshire.
Only a small number of castles, including Pembroke and Pontefract, participated
within the conflict alongside urban garrisons such as Colchester.
iii.
The third Civil War (1649-1651) marks Charles II’s ill-fated attempt to seize his
father’s throne, culminating in the defeat of his largely Scottish army at the
battle of Worcester on 3rd September 1651 and his flight to Scotland. Although
several Scottish castles were besieged during the conflict, most notably
Edinburgh (Hutton and Reeves 1998, 221), no English castle played a significant
role.
The termination of this thesis is marked by the formal surrender of Pontefract on 24th
March, 1649. The conflicts marked the final large-scale participation of English castles
within the theatre of war although, as demonstrated by the Cold War defences at Dover
21
2 The Role of Castles
Castle, individual castles continued to play a military role into the 20th century and
beyond (Humphreys 2010, 87-88).
2.3
An inconvenient truth I: the post-medieval castle within medieval studies
The participation of castles in post-medieval social discourse has, in comparison to their
extensively studied origins (e.g. Brown 1969; Saunders 1977; Thompson 1991), only
received limited investigation (notable exceptions include Kightly 1979; Thompson
1987; Harrington 1992; 2004; Rakoczy 2007). This reflects their identification as an
essentially medieval phenomenon and is characterised by the founding statement of the
Castle Studies Group (1987, 2), which emphasises that the study of castles aids an
understanding of medieval, as opposed to medieval and post-medieval society (see also
Austin 1984, 69). Recent discussions on the future of castellology suggest this shows
little signs of change (e.g. Creighton 2008, 80). Indeed, many studies of castles,
fortifications and sieges terminate in the late 15th century, with the rise of Henrican forts
in the 16th century seen as marking a new rise of private fortification aimed at protecting
the kingdom as a whole rather than elite individuals (e.g. Platt 1982, 187; Coulson
2003, 301).
This neglect means that the military use of castles during the 17th century goes largely
unnoticed. For example, one medieval companion to castles contains no mention of the
Civil War in its entry on sieges, instead stating that ‘in England relatively few castles or
fortified towns were ever called upon to resist a siege’ (Friar 2003, 263). A discussion
on the distribution of castle sieges also ignores their occurrence in the Civil War,
despite this being the period when castles reached the peak of their military activity
(Liddiard 2005, 74-5). Other scholars discuss the Civil War in terms of the damage it
has caused to medieval architecture, such as works which obscured the original form of
the gatehouse at Banbury (Kenyon 1990, 68). In the rare publications which do address
their participation in the conflict as a subject in its own right, the castle has been seen as
in decline rather than in active use, with castles fortified ‘when their day was thought to
be over’ (Bottomley 1979, 165).
The emphasis on the decline of the castle has led to an assumption regarding the castle’s
weakness when faced with gunpowder and their consequent loss of popularity, with
22
2 The Role of Castles
some castellologists going so far as to view their use in the mid-17th century as ‘ironic’
or as an act of desperation (Pettifer 1995, xx; Thompson 1987, 138). The rise of
gunpowder and the preference for pitched battles in conflicts such as the Wars of the
Roses in the 15th century has led to the walls of castles, constructed before the use of
cannon, being viewed as easy prey for artillery with the defenders having little chance
of success (Allen Brown 1954, 89; Brauer and van Tuyll 2008, 47). This leads to an
element of shock amongst some castellologists, who note that ‘the surprisingly large
number of sieges that took place at medieval castles’ proved they were ‘surprisingly
defensible’ (Liddiard 2005, 95; Johnson 1981, 183).
Despite claims that castles were only able to withstand short sieges (Braun 1948, 112),
more recent analysis has demonstrated this was not the case. Studies of 25 major Civil
War sieges have shown that only two castles were successfully stormed, suggesting that
castles were more suited to a defensive role than has been previously assumed (Carlton
1991, 29). This outcome has in some cases, such as Corfe, been attributed to artillery
causing minimal damage due to the lack of trained gunners (Humphrys 2007, 82), but
this cannot used as an explanation for all castles. It should also be remembered that, as
demonstrated by the fall of Rochester castle to King John’s forces in 1215, ‘only in
legend were fortresses arrogantly ‘impregnable’, even the most costly’ (Coulson 2003,
121). The walls of the castle were always designed to be a deterrent, designed to resist
the enemy for sufficient time for reinforcements to arrive or disease and supply
depleting the numbers of the besieged. As a result, far from being an anomaly in the
history of the castle, the Civil War instead fits perfectly into the depiction of an elusive
institution which has always resided uneasily between concepts of status and defence.
2.4
An inconvenient truth II: the post-medieval castle within Civil War studies.
Somewhat paradoxically, whilst the castle has been studied during the medieval period
as a predominantly social phenomenon, its analysis during the Civil Wars has been
largely governed by studies of battlefield archaeology, with emphasis placed on the
military action as opposed to the social impact (e.g. Foard 2001; 2012). By assuming
that a building occupied during the Civil War must be unequivocally defensible, postmedieval scholars place themselves in direct opposition to medieval scholars who may
view the same building as a symbol of status (Rakoczy 2007, 9).
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2 The Role of Castles
Current methodologies focus on the identification of key areas of conflict through the
use of metal detector survey, as at Cheriton, Hampshire and Edgehill, Warwickshire,
whilst other studies concentrate upon the physical landscape of war, particularly the
identification and assessment of standing remains and earthworks associated with Civil
War sieges (Foard 2001; 2012, 121-186; Bonsall 2007). This means that whilst the
history and site plans of fortifications is well developed (Foard 2001, 87), the social
discourse conducted within them remains largely ignored (Rakoczy 2007, 9). Where
utilised, the artefacts recovered from sites are primarily used to identify area which saw
military action, with archaeological features subject to ‘limited excavation’ as opposed
to the extensive excavation required for assemblage studies (Harrington 2005, 112).
This is typified by Kenneth Wiggins’ publication (2001) on the siege of King John’s
Castle in Limerick, which whilst being an excellent publication in terms of the
utilisation of history and archaeology to recreate the military aspects of the siege,
contains no mention of any non-military material culture uncovered during the
excavation.
As sites are considered from a military viewpoint, so the selection of castles is seen in
terms of logistics. Garrison sites are thus discussed in terms of their role as satellite
defences for larger garrisons and control of territory rather than in terms of social
significance (e.g. Harrington 2005, 95). Similarly, although there are many studies
about the military effects of sieges (e.g. Hutton and Reeves 1998), there are far fewer on
their social effects, and rarely are the two linked (a notable exception being Porter
1994). As a result, sieges are often discussed in terms of conflict and casualties, despite
the fact that many besieged castles surrendered through starvation rather than storming
(Hutton and Reeves 1998, 227), and sieges were only periodically interrupted by
bloodshed. For example, at the siege of Pontefract, although 1,364 shots were fired from
the Parliamentarian guns during the first five days of the siege in January 1645, only 42
shots were fired in the subsequent 38 days (Porter 1994, 54). Therefore, the study of the
Civil War siege is the study of tedium and daily routine rather than the action of
military combat, despite the prominence given to the latter.
However, there are a few publications demonstrating that archaeology can add another
dimension to sieges through highlighting areas not normally covered by documents,
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2 The Role of Castles
including diet, weaponry used and the treatment of the dead (Harrington 2004, 8). Most
notable amongst these are the excavation reports for Pontefract Castle (Roberts 1988;
2002a), Harrington’s English Civil War Archaeology (2004), and fragmentary reports
concerning elements of the Civil War assemblages from Dudley Castle (Ratkai 1985;
Moffett 1992; Gaimster et al. 1996; Thomas 2005). Rakoczy has taken a different
approach with the Archaeology of Destruction (2007), exploring the social motivations
behind the slighting of castles as opposed to their Civil War use. Her evaluation of a
number of sites, including Pontefract, Helmsley and Kenilworth, demonstrate the overly
simplistic approach which has been adopted towards Civil War castles, and the benefits
which can be gained through a contextual analysis of the social discourse at siege sites.
For example, Johnson’s interpretation of the slighting of Kenilworth castle as a move by
the ‘middling sort’ (Johnson 2002, 174), has drawn criticism as the motivations behind
the destruction of castles have been demonstrated to be extremely complex (Rakoczy
2007, 29). The original proposal for Kenilworth was for the complete demolition of the
castle, but this was abandoned in favour of the partial demolition of the Keep nearest to
the town and the gatehouse was left as a residence for the governor (Thompson 1987,
147-8). The complexity of property destruction is supported by local studies of urban
environments such as Exeter, London and Colchester (Stoyle 1996; Porter 1984a;
Mabbitt 2012), although the difficulty in associating excavated urban artefacts with
specific historical periods means such studies usually rely on military, documentary and
architectural evidence, one rare exception being Leicester (Courtney and Courtney
1992).
The use of castles during the Civil War has often been explained in terms of social
evolution, with the conflict marking a brief hiatus in the ‘transition of the British and
Irish from warrior to civilian societies’ (Hutton and Reeves 1998, 233). However, the
study of castles during this period demonstrates they were far from an anomalous
throwback to a barbaric, uncivilised past, a conclusion which has far-reaching
implications.
2.5
The castle during the Civil War
A survey of buildings from England and Wales occupied by troops in the Civil War,
based on Gaunt’s (1987) gazetteer of Civil War sites, demonstrates that a diverse range
25
2 The Role of Castles
of buildings were utilised during the Civil War (see fig. 2.2). Of those occupied in
England and Wales during the course of the conflict, 120 sites are described as castles,
102 as urban sites and 114 are referred to as non-fortified dwellings, including
mansions, houses and manor houses. The use of large numbers of traditionally nonmilitary buildings highlights the weakness of the division between castles and houses
already noted by some castellologists (Cherry 2007, 414; Creighton and Liddiard 2008,
167) and demonstrates that architecture is, by itself, insufficient evidence to identify a
castle. Instead, a more complex study is required which investigates each site in terms
of why it was occupied and its significance to both sides.
The distribution of buildings utilised as garrison sites during the conflict (see fig. 2.3)
shows that only East Anglia, an area under firm Parliamentarian control, escaped any
large-scale conflict with the single exception of Colchester, which played a significant
role during the second Civil War (Mabbitt 2012, 3). However, even in these areas
castles continued to be utilised; for example, at Cambridge the Norman motte and
bailey was embellished with bastions and other defences despite never being under any
serious threat (Cessford 2008, 137-140). Castle sites are distributed fairly evenly across
the rest of the country along with other fortified sites such as moated or crenelated
manor houses. Unfortified sites on the other hand are concentrated within the midlands,
reflecting the intense fighting which took place here. This distribution demonstrates that
there is a link between the fortification of buildings and the uncertainty of territory.
However, few castles were used in the previous civil conflict, the Wars of the Roses, so
this by itself cannot fully explain why during the Civil Wars the majority of troops were
situated in strongholds as opposed to on the field of battle (Hutton and Reeves 1998,
195). In addition, although this explains why fortifications were required, it fails to
elucidate why particular buildings, many of them seemingly unfit for defence, were
occupied and successfully held by their defenders. Although the need for protection was
a large factor in the decisions made, there is also a strong social element in explaining
why certain buildings were fortified over others.
A study of the propaganda produced during the conflict has claimed that Royalists
preferred to use castles defended by their aristocratic owners whilst Parliament
preferred towns defended by their inhabitants (Hutton and Reeves 1998, 200). Whilst
the distribution of garrisons does not differentiate between Royalist and Parliamentarian
26
2 The Role of Castles
strongholds, mainly through difficulties in identifying the original fortifier of a
particular site, in reality the pattern was far more complex than the propaganda might
suggest. The Royalists for example held a few towns, including Oxford, Bristol and
Chester whilst garrisons such as Rushall Hall, Hopton and Beeston were fortified for
Parliament. Both sides also commended the efforts of protagonists who defended their
own property against the opposition, as demonstrated by the Parliamentarian praise
heaped upon Brilliana Harley for her defence of Brampton Bryan (Hudson 1993, 91).
The large number of buildings utilised as midlands garrisons, despite their apparent lack
of defence, is indicative of how castles could have a symbolic value which was more
important that their physical presence. Even houses initially fortified by owners seeking
to protect their property continued to be used as garrisons once they had been seized by
their opposition. For example, the Royalist Coughton Court, Warwickshire was utilised
by Parliament for the rest of the first Civil War following its capture in 1643 and this
situation is repeated at many other houses including Compton Wynates, Warwickshire
and Benthall Hall, Shropshire (Gaunt 1987, 140, 160). This continuation emphasises the
symbolic importance many buildings had despite their poor military defences. Indeed,
their lack of military strength could play a key role in propaganda that celebrated the
struggle of homeowners against hopeless odds, as at Caldecote Hall. Here, Royalist
forces led by Prince Rupert were initially repulsed with heavy losses by the owner’s
wife, her son-in-law and 11 servants, leading to Rupert sparing the eventually defeated
garrison from further damage out of respect (Humphrys 2007, 120-1). The buildings
occupied during the course of the conflict demonstrate the complexity of the definition
of a castle in which architecture did not always play a primary role.
Some castles, such as Pontefract and Warwick, were intentionally occupied at the
beginning of the war whilst others were adapted only when the need arose. For
example, Brampton Bryan was fortified by its owner Lady Brilliana Harley after she
refused to hand her home over to a new Royalist commander, with the castle
successfully withstanding a siege lasting seven weeks until the Royalists withdrew
(Fraser 1984, 175-181; Humphrys 2007, 121-3). Although many, such as Rushall Hall
in the West Midlands, may have only been able to hold out against the besiegers for a
matter of hours (Gaunt 1987, 164; Sherwood 1992, 39), the fact that these buildings
were chosen and fortified despite being indefensible either suggests the defenders were
27
2 The Role of Castles
incompetent, which is unlikely, or that far more complex social factors were at work
than military considerations alone. It has been claimed that other buildings such as
mansions and churches were only utilised when castles were either too dilapidated or
too few in number (Kightly 1979, 183). However, this needs to be balanced against the
use of buildings which were not defensible in any way, such as Aston Hall in
Birmingham (Gaunt 1987, 163). The range of buildings adopted for use as fortifications
is clear evidence that during this period it was not just castles which were deemed to be
defensible; never has the traditional adage that ‘an Englishman’s home is his castle’
been more appropriate. Even when a ‘true’ castle such as Sandal was fortified, the
motivations behind its construction were complex, with considerations of defence not
being of primary concern (see below, 7.3).
2.6
The (un)changing role of castles
It has been claimed that when castles are incapable of a defensive role, the emphasis
falls on large armies to determine the outcome of the conflict through pitched battles
(Coulson 1979, 77). As a result, the use of castles and other buildings in the Civil War
gives rise to a contradiction in which castles seemingly incapable of defence during the
medieval period are suddenly defensively active in subsequent centuries alongside
mansions, moated manors and churches. One example of this is Donnington in
Berkshire, which has been described as ‘very weak’ (Coulson 1992, 97) whilst at the
same time ‘enduring repeated attacks and sieges’ during the English Civil War, when it
survived in Royalist hands from 1642 until April 1646 (Gaunt 1987, 6). Other castles,
such as Wigmore, were deemed to be such a threat they were pre-emptively destroyed
by their Parliamentarian owners to prevent their use in the conflict (Robinson 1869,
142).
The lack of defensive buildings is suggested as one reason why the castle had a minimal
role in the Wars of the Roses (Pettifer 1995, xviii), yet if this is the case it fails to
explain why buildings such as Wingfield Manor, with seemingly little defensive role,
were not only occupied during the Civil War but also withstood a sieges for weeks at a
time (Harrington 2004, 64-65). For example Wardour Castle ‘might have kept a band of
marauding peasants at bay but it would have stood little chance against a determined,
well-equipped enemy’ (Humphrys 2007, 21), but a garrison of 25 held out for five days
28
2 The Role of Castles
against an opposing Parliamentarian force 1300 men strong in May 1643. The castle
subsequently withstood a four month siege by the Royalists which only succeeded
through mining (Gaunt 1987, 174), and by Humphrys’ own admission (2007, 87), ‘the
guns employed by the attackers were never large enough to do any significant damage’.
The commencement of the Civil War did witness a shortage of trained soldiers and
fortifications, but this does not mean that the ‘primitive’ defences were unable to endure
a sustained siege (Courtney 2001, 105), as during this period the difficulty of obtaining
and transporting large cannon meant many supposedly indefensible buildings could
withstand a substantial siege (Saunders 1989, 75).
The negative perception of the use of castles during this period is compounded by the
use of medieval techniques such as sows, a type of siege engine, during the conflict
(Johnson 1981, 183; Hutton and Reeves 1998, 232). As a result, there is a tendency to
dismiss the Civil War as inferior, with few ‘proper’ battles. However, although
continental warfare may have developed different techniques, this does not mean that
the Civil War should be viewed in terms of primitive warfare. Instead, the impact of
using medieval methods and fortifications needs to be comprehended, as this would
have a substantial impact on the social discourse at these sites (see below, 9.2). It should
not be forgotten that in the 17th century a military calling ‘was still the highest secular
calling of all’ (Saunders 1989, 70) and this must have had an impact on those who
experienced life under siege. Although some archaeologists have seen the post-medieval
period as being markedly different from the preceding centuries (e.g. Johnson 1996),
there is much to be gained from a different approach which sees aspects of the 17th
century as heavily influenced by earlier conflicts.
The complexity of the use of castles during this period should not be seen as separate
from their use in the preceding centuries, but rather as reflecting their elusive definition
and purpose throughout their life cycles; it is no coincidence that ‘despite the increasing
importance of gunpowder and sophistication of defences, many of the basic principles
of siege warfare remained unchanged from the medieval period’ (Courtney 2001, 105).
The use of buildings which would normally not be seen as castles is not confined solely
to the Civil Wars; in 1373 a house in Barton-on-Humber was held by its disgruntled
occupant, in the words of contemporaries, ‘as a castle’ (Coulson 2003, 47). Therefore,
the challenge is not to interpret buildings with military architecture in terms of whether
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2 The Role of Castles
these can or cannot constitute fortresses, but instead see how contemporaries might
consider calling a building a fortress even when its architecture may suggest otherwise.
To suggest a division between the medieval and post-medieval interpretation of castles
is to ignore the organic way in which perceptions about monuments and other
institutions develop, the generations of the present being influenced by the past and in
turn influencing those of the future (Austin 1984, 72). As such, the experience of the
castle during the 17th century cannot be disassociated from the preceding centuries, as
seemingly indefensible castles and houses were not only occupied but also, to varying
degrees, withstood sieges. Therefore, the ideological concepts of the castle could prove
to be just as effective as its physical form, defence being as much an idea as a practical
consideration (Wheatley 2001, 2). The use of castles during the Civil War demonstrates
the flexibility of their role and this needs to be appreciated in the methods used to study
them.
2.7
The biography of the Civil War castle
The complexity of social discourse surrounding the castle during this period presents
the perfect opportunity to understand one chapter in its biography. This is aided in no
small part both by the large amount of contemporary documentation, including diaries,
letters and newssheets, and the nature of occupation at many sites. Many castles
witnessed little or no occupation in the decades preceding the conflict and were
demolished shortly after they had surrendered, resulting in layers of occupation which
are clearly related to activity on the site during this period (Courtney 2001, 109). As a
result, the substantial Civil War deposits from largely rural sites such as Beeston
(Knight 1982; 1992; 1993; 1994), Montgomery (Ellis 1993a) and Helmsley (fig. 1.2)
present a unique opportunity for studying the social experience of conflict during the
mid-17th century. However, the marginalised status of the Civil War in castle studies
means the presence of civil war material is often overlooked within excavation reports,
for example although the medieval pottery report for Sandal castle is 129 pages long,
discussion of the siege-period wares cover a mere five (Moorhouse 1983a; Brears 1983,
219-224). In addition, the nature of civil war archaeology means that, with the exception
of militaria, occupation horizons at castle sites are largely overlooked.
30
2 The Role of Castles
In urban environments, the excavation of Civil War defences has suggested the physical
form these took (Courtney 2001), but the challenge is to relate this to the social impact
of the fighting remains. In many towns and cities the complications of urban
environments, as at Newcastle-upon-Tyne Castle (Nolan 1990), mean such approaches
are impossible but this only increases the importance of castle sites where it is possible
to isolate Civil War deposits. Although problematic, it is possible to move beyond the
recording of the layout of fortifications and place these within their social context.
The development of biographies does rely on largely undisturbed deposits; wells and
garderobes in particular are extremely valuable sources of material, as demonstrated by
the Civil War deposits from St. Paul-in-the-Bail, Lincoln (Mann 2008) and Dudley
Castle (Moffett 1992). However, financial and practical restrictions often mean such
features remain unexcavated; for example, at Launceston castle, whilst two garderobes
were emptied, the well was not (Saunders 2006). Despite this, the amount of material
gathered from sites such as Beeston Castle (Ellis 1993a) and Basing House (Moorhouse
1970; 1971a) demonstrate that such an approach is possible given the right resources.
The excavation of other post-medieval garrisons from Mauritius (Floore and Jayasena
2010) and Fort Watson, South Carolina (Ferguson 1977), have similarly highlighted the
important role artefacts can play in the social discourse of a military site. Therefore, the
application of these approaches to English Civil War sites presents a fresh insight into
the social, as opposed to military, occupation of a particular castle.
Although studies of Civil War sites have often focussed on the military aspects of
occupation, arms and armour, like any other artefact, were embedded in the social
discourse of a given site, as demonstrated by studies of militaria from the fort at
Jamestown, Virginia (Straube 2006). Indeed, these alone could not sustain a garrison
and the procurement of food and drink in particular were a vital part of ensuring an
army’s survival, especially when a garrison was besieged. Starvation was a common
reason for the surrender of a castle; when the garrison finally capitulated at Beeston
only two biscuits and a piece of pie remained (Barratt 1995, 17), whilst a commander
who surrendered a well-provisioned fortification could be heavily punished (Carlton
1992, 168). As a result, this thesis will focus on the non-military artefacts recovered
from Civil War sites, in particular the material culture consumed alongside food and
drink. This aims to redress the bias of Civil War studies towards military aspects of
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2 The Role of Castles
warfare whilst at the same time recognising the important role food and drink played
within contemporary social discourse.
Although studies of other sites have highlighted possible differences between Catholics
and Protestants within the archaeological record (e.g. de Groote and Pype 2007, 20),
this thesis avoids religious stereotypes to fully appreciate the role food and drink played
within individual garrisons. The comparison between the drunken catholic Royalist and
the sober, Puritan Parliamentarian is erroneous, as in reality the latter viewed
drunkenness and its effects with great suspicion rather than alcohol itself, a feeling
shared by a number of Catholic royalist commanders including the Marquis of
Worcester (Capp 2012, 152; Bayly 1650, 5). Alcohol was a useful anaesthetic to the
terror and tedium of conflict, whilst the rituals associated with it were an essential part
of the formation of group identity (see below, 9.5.1).
By focussing on non-martial assemblages, this thesis highlights the important role nonmilitary social discourse played in the maintenance of a garrison at war. Although the
approach discussed here could be applied to any Civil War site with large assemblages
directly linked to the conflict, three case studies have been selected for inclusion within
this thesis; Eccleshall, Staffordshire and Sandal and Pontefract, West Yorkshire.
2.8
Selected sites
The chosen sites exemplify the broad range of buildings selected for military use during
the Civil War, incorporating a bishop’s palace with limited fortifications, a largely
ruined castle which was hastily modified, and one of the strongest fortresses within the
kingdom. All have produced substantial assemblages from excavations of scales varying
from a section of moat to near total investigation. The analysis of the material culture
recovered from these demonstrates the complexity of social discourse and emphasises
why a contextualised approach must be adopted when studying castle sites during this
period.
2.8.1 Eccleshall
The palace of the Bishop of Coventry and Lichfield was fortified on the orders of the
King around February 1643. Despite its relative lack of defences which might be
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2 The Role of Castles
interpreted by some scholars as evidence of status over military use, it successfully
withstood a Parliamentarian siege for ten weeks until it was forced to surrender due to
subterfuge in September 1643. Its triumphant captor, Sir William Brereton, intended to
inhabit the castle after the conflict but was forced by Parliament to abandon his plans
and instead the castle was slighted and fell into ruin until its final demolition in the late
17th century. Excavations around the castle’s north wall between 1973 and 1975
revealed extensive deposits of largely complete material culture including a large
collection of glass vessels. The assemblage is notable in its own right as a case study of
an elite mid-17th century household, but also demonstrates the use of archaic vessels and
raises important questions regarding the destruction of material culture after the conflict.
2.8.2 Sandal
The prominence of Sandal within castle studies is largely due to its status as one of the
few castles subject to almost total archaeological excavation. A developed motte-andbailey castle two miles south of Wakefield, West Yorkshire (see fig. 2.4), it played a
role during the Battle of Wakefield in 1460 and was renovated by Richard III before his
death in 1485. Despite being substantially in ruins, upon the outbreak of another civil
conflict it was occupied by around 80 Royalists troops who withstood periodic sieges
until 22nd July 1645, when the castle surrendered after a short bombardment by newlyarrived Parliamentarian cannon (Bishop 1645). Between 1964 and 1973 a team of
volunteers fully excavated the interior of the castle, recovering extensive amounts of
material culture relating to all phases of occupation, including the Civil War. The nature
of the excavations facilitates a full spatial analysis of material deposited within the
castle, highlighting separate areas of social discourse and demonstrating how
conventions of everyday life were maintained even during times of duress.
2.8.3 Pontefract
One of the strongest castles in England, Pontefract was an active participant in the first
and second Civil Wars (see figs. 2.5 and 8.1). Initially occupied by Royalist troops, it
was besieged from 25th December 1644 until its surrender to Parliament on 20th July
1645, although the siege was briefly lifted by troops led by Sir Marmaduke Langdale on
1st March 1645 (Heylyn 1645a). A motion to slight the castle was rejected by Act of
Parliament in 1645, but a few months later a small royalist party led by Colonel John
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2 The Role of Castles
Morris seized the castle from its Parliamentarian occupants by subterfuge on 3rd June
1648. This led to the third siege of the castle, which lasted until 24th March 1649 when
the garrison finally surrendered, several months after the execution of Charles I. This
event, probably due to a fever which had decimated the garrison (Holmes 1887, 319),
was swiftly followed by the almost total destruction of the castle, with most of the profit
from the sale of materials being donated to the town for repairs. Partial excavations
undertaken as part of conservation work within the castle between 1982 and 1986
revealed extensive deposits relating to the conflict, particularly in the basement of the
Constable Tower. A siege diary written by Nathan Drake during the first two sieges
presents a unique opportunity to study the material culture of a siege alongside
eyewitness reports and highlight the importance placed on communal drinking rituals in
creating a single group identity (Walker 1997).
2.9
Conclusion
The use of castles during the Civil War demonstrate that even when these sites do
become the backdrop for conflict, the warfare they witnessed was not solely about
‘terror, pain, killing and blood’ (Carmen 1999, 243). Instead, the garrisons enclosed
within their walls were subject to long periods of time in which little military activity
occurred, yet this has received scant attention in the majority of studies. By emphasising
the role non-military material culture played in the social discourse of the conflict
through the analysis of artefacts deposited at three Civil War sites it is possible to
redress this imbalance, in the process confirming the castle as a versatile phenomenon
which is extremely active in contemporary social discourse.
The study of castles from 1642 until 1649 is only one chapter of a much larger
biography. However, the analysis of material culture deposited shortly after the Civil
War provides a valuable opportunity to evaluate the benefits of an approach determined
by material culture which can then be applied to other sites and other periods. There are
substantial benefits to be gained from this methodology, as the combination of historical
and archaeological approaches can give an insight not just into how individual sieges
were conducted (Courtney 2001, 113), but also into how the people within those sieges
perceived themselves and the buildings around them. However, before this can be
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2 The Role of Castles
achieved it is first necessary to fully appreciate the role material culture played in the
social discourse of consumption during the mid-17th century.
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2 The Role of Castles
36
3 Consumption
3
The consumption of food, drink and associated material culture
during the English Civil War
‘Enjoying feasts and drinking bouts that seemed excessive by civilian standards were
privileges of military life’
(Tlusty 2002, 152)
3.1
Consumption: an archaeological introduction
The consumption of material culture lies at the heart of all social discourse, regardless
of location or time period. It encompasses not just the inevitable destruction of material
culture, but also the endowment of meaning on an object through its life cycle. Artefacts
are more than mere tools, they are also participants in a complex, recursive relationship
between agent and object which defines and sustains both parties (Weatherill 1996, 5).
Only by understanding that relationship is it possible to fully appreciate the artefacts
deposited within castles during the English Civil War.
Since its inception in the 1970s, material culture studies have diversified to the extent
where a single approach to consumption is impossible (Fairchilds 1993, 857-858; Fine
and Leopold 1993, 3-4). As a result the focus on particular aspects of consumption has
often been determined by period of history and academic study (Martin 1993, 143-144).
Economists have focussed on a consumer society associated with market forces and
issues of supply and demand (e.g. Ashworth 2003; Stuard 1985), sociologists on the
role played by consumption in modern society (e.g. Koptyoff 1986; Miller 1987) and
historians on evidence for emulative consumption (e.g. Campbell 1993), with all
schools examining the "Birth of the Consumer Society" in the late seventeenth and
eighteenth centuries (McKendrick et al. 1982, 9). There are comparatively few studies
examining the consumption of artefacts in earlier periods and one such study, of
medieval patterns of consumption (Stuard 1985), has been deemed to be ‘stretching a
point' (Fine and Leopold 1993, 64). As a result, consumption is often seen as a postmedieval phenomenon solely relating to the rise of the consumer society and with no
prevalence in earlier centuries.
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3 Consumption
However, it is important to note that ‘the process of cultural appropriation of material
things is not reducible either to production or consumption but is to do with a series of
types of interactions between people and objects’ (Dant 1999, 14). Rather than
consumption being a separate process, beginning where market processes terminate
(Douglas and Isherwood 1996, 36), it is integral to all stages of an artefact’s life from
initial conception through production and sale to use and eventual discard. All objects
are consumed, even when the choice of artefacts available is limited. Rather than
emphasising the procurement of objects and how they were purchased, it is often more
useful to focus on how and where they were subsequently used (Pennell 1998, 202).
As the meaning of an object relies on its interpretation within a particular context,
consumption patterns vary dependent on the habitus occupied by particular agents (Dant
1999, 21). As a result it is necessary to understand the role food, drink and associated
material culture played during the 17th century, and the English Civil War in particular,
before attempting the analysis of objects recovered from Civil War sites.
3.2
The English Irish Souldier: an introduction to the significance of food and
drink during the English Civil War.
Despite the vast potential offered by material culture studies, current analyses of food
and drink within the conflict concentrate on the economic and logistic concerns of both
sides rather than the social discourse of warfare (e.g. Young and Emberton 1974, 88-94;
Hutton 1999, 97-99; Edwards 1998, 256-257). However, the significance of foodstuffs
and associated material culture during this period is demonstrated by The English Irish
Souldier (fig. 3.1), a woodcut published in 1642 highlighting the potential dangers of
the military. Rather than the traditional accoutrements of the common soldier, the
depicted infantryman is regaled with food and drink and its associated material culture,
including a dripping pan for a shield, a tripod pipkin for a helmet and a goose on a spit
for a musket. The substitution of food and drink for arms and armaments is indicative of
the importance they played in contemporary social discourse. In addition, the
accompanying poem demonstrates how material culture is imbued with the properties of
the substances they contain, for example ‘Bandoleers Canary Bottles, which can quell
base feares’ whilst drinking vessels ‘can steele the nose, & purg the brain of plots’.
Although it is the contents of these artefacts, namely alcohol, which have these effects
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3 Consumption
on the soldier, it is the material culture itself which is imbued with this particular
symbolism.
The woodcut illustrates the principal aspects of consumption during this period, namely
the food and drink itself, the material culture with which it was consumed and the
context in which it was consumed. In many instances the significance of the foodstuff
and the container with which it was consumed may be shared, but at other times the
container may come to hold specific significance due to its contents, and vice versa, as
the nature of social discourse means that actors actively select vessels for use (Pennell
1999, 39). As a result, these two strands must be analysed in any study of consumption
during this period.
3.2.1 Food and drink
Unlike most consumption goods, food is a daily necessity (Fine and Leopold 1993,
149), but it is also one of the key components of human identity as ‘our eating habits are
so close to the core of our memories, to the formation of our character and the launching
of our conscious experience, that its substance may be said to have been a part of us’
(Mintz 1993, 262). As a result, the study of food eaten by a particular society is
reflective of the social discourse that occurred in that society, and it is impossible to
understand the eating and drinking practices of a particular culture without placing it in
the context of a wider social discourse (Bourdieu 1984, 185).
Although all foodstuffs had a role to play in social discourse, four areas are of specific
interest due to the regularity with which they occur in Civil War accounts: bread, dairy
products (particularly cheese), meat and alcohol (Young and Emberton 1974, 88). As a
result although this chapter will deal with food in general, these four comestibles will be
discussed in greater depth.
3.2.2 Containers
The majority of foodstuffs, particularly liquids, require a container or vessel with which
it can be created or consumed. Even items such as bread, which can be eaten by hand as
opposed to from a bowl or platter, rely on material culture for their manufacture and
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3 Consumption
storage. Consequently, a study of the consumption of food and drink must treat both
foodstuffs and containers as social artefacts, equally active in social discourse.
The significance of the objects being consumed can vary dependent on the context of
their consumption, an object made and consumed in the late 16th century will have a
different significance to the same object consumed 50 years later during or after the
Civil War. Thus the consumption of material culture must be contextualised on the basis
of the particular social context in which it was used. The benefits of interpreting an
object in its social setting is demonstrated by Goldthwaite’s study (1989) of Italian
maiolica during the Renaissance in which he suggests the investment of money in
ceramic dining vessels, as opposed to those made of metal, was not a form of emulation
but instead was the result of a complex set of relationships including the relative
fragility of maiolica compared to metallic objects, the iconographical significance of the
paintings on the ceramic and even the supposed ability of porcelain to react to poisoned
foodstuffs.
Although individual objects have social significance by themselves, when consumed
alongside other material culture the assemblage as a whole can play an equally
important role in social discourse. This is demonstrated by the distribution of German
stoneware in Novgorod, Russia which was restricted to areas of the city associated with
Hanseatic merchants. The local residents preferred to use traditional wooden drinking
vessels in preference to these western imports, resulting in distinct assemblages which
visibly distinguished these two disparate groups (Gaimster 2005, 80-82). Similarly,
studies in Southampton have suggested that high percentage of medieval continental
pottery from one site, Bull Hall, is indicative of a continental inhabitant using ceramics
to express his identity (Brown 2002, 165). As a result, it is imperative that objects are
considered not just in their own right, but also within the assemblage in which they
were consumed. Only by returning a particular object to its social context is it possible
to fully understand an object not just in terms of its physical properties, but also in terms
of how people were influenced by it.
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3.3
Food and drink in the 17th Century
The early 17th century witnessed a gradual change in diet that had its roots in the
previous century (Thirsk 2006, 59). Food formed a large part of the expenditure of a
household as during this period the average householder spent more on beer, ale and
bread than any other item (Ashworth 2003, 210). Bread and beer were also the principal
cornerstones of diet, Brilliana Harley stating in 1643 that ‘if I had money to buy corn
and meal and malt I should hope to hold out [against Royalist opposition]’ (Hudson
1993, 68, see also Anderson 1971, 48). Nonetheless, food was a social investment as
well as a financial one. Books such as The English Housewife (Markham 1986)
demonstrate far broader concerns than cookery, including the preparation of food and
treating illness (Mennell 1985, 84), and the medicinal value of certain foods was almost
as important as its nutritional value. For example, butter made in May was meant to be
‘exceeding sovereign and medicinable for wounds, strains, aches, and such like
grievances’ (Markham 1986, 173). Similarly fruit was often eaten preserved or cooked
rather than fresh as it was believed that, when consumed raw, it might cause sicknesses
including dysentery and diarrhoea (Giorgi 1997, 204).
The majority of England followed subsistence agriculture, in which the rural population
grew and produced the majority of the food they consumed and even the urban
population often kept a kitchen plot and a few livestock (Anderson 1971, 5). However,
variety rather than conformity marked society, with diets and cooking styles varying
from region to region (Thirsk 2006, 84). One example of this can be seen in the
preference for grains to make bread as wheat dominated the south and south-east, barley
was preferred in the midlands and Lancashire preferred oatcakes (Thirsk 2006, 197).
Despite these general trends, certain fashions meant that some foodstuffs could spread
from beyond their traditional homelands, thus in the early 17th century there was a
preponderance for oatcakes amongst the Scottish gentry at the court of James I, with the
result that oatcakes were still popular in London in the 1640s (Thirsk 2006, 206).
Another important aspect which needs consideration is the role of women, as in a world
of patriarchal domination the kitchen and dairy were very much a female domain
(Pennell 1999, 42-3). Women held various roles, including the procurement of much of
the food from the garden, herblore and the preparation and cooking of food (Anderson
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3 Consumption
1971, 87; Markham 1986, xxvii). This has particular implications for the role of women
within Civil War garrisons, as despite the assumption that garrisons were male-only,
there is documentary evidence from Pontefract for women being responsible for
cooking (see below, 8.5). Some studies of material culture have gone further,
associating light-coloured ceramics with a female-dominated domestic sphere of
cooking and domestic chores and dark-coloured ceramics with a male-dominated
culture of drinking and socialising (Yentsch 1991, 193-195). The presence of women
tending the fire in a depiction of Naseby alongside evidence for women at Pontefract,
Sheffield and Dudley Castles suggest this is an area of Civil War studies which merits
further study (see fig. 3.2 and below, 9.3).
3.4
Food and Drink during the Civil War
It might be expected that during the Civil War the social importance of food would
decrease as people subsisted on what little was available. However, evidence suggests
this is not the case, for example Ann Fanshawe when moving to the King’s Court at
Oxford during the Civil War moaned not only about the state of the accommodation, but
also the food, as they only had ‘one dish of meat’ being ‘as poor as Job’ (Hudson 1993,
74). In addition, the variety in diet throughout the country rose to greater prominence
during the Civil War, as the mobility of troops, compounded by the large numbers of
troops from outside England (Stoyle 2005, 1), meant many were exposed to new
foodstuffs that were not readily available in their home area. For example, cider spread
from the West Country due to soldiers sampling the drink near the battlefields of the
west midlands and exporting it back to their homes (Thirsk 2006, 103). Other food,
originally a necessity, became a delicacy due to their widespread consumption. Biscuits
were originally a method of providing food for long voyages or armies on the march
due to their durability. Increasingly, however, and with the addition of other ingredients
such as fennel seeds and almonds, they became popular amongst the upper and
middling classes (Thirsk 2006, 109-110).
The use of undomesticated or wild foods was familiar to all areas of society and less
affluent persons were dependent on them for food all year round (Thirsk 2006, 73-4).
This practice continued during the Civil War as such foodstuffs were a useful
supplement to meagre rations. For example, at Pontefract on 11th May 1645 a nine year-
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old boy had been shot 'as he was getting of greane sawse' (Walker 1997, 30). 'Greane
sawse', a variety of sorrel, was still found next to the castle in the 19th century and was
renowned for its medicinal properties (Holmes 1887, 66). It was also noted to be 'much
used formerly as a sauce with meat, especially veal' (Lees 1883, 57), which is
particularly pertinent given the prominence of cattle in Drake's diary (see below, 3.4.3).
The mention of this foodstuff in Drake's diary demonstrates the multiple roles a single
foodstuff might play. Sorrel for example was noted by John Evelyn (2009, 162) in
Acetaria as 'sharpning Appetite, asswages Heat, cools the Liver, strengthens the Heart;
is an Anti-scorbutic, resisting Putrefaction, and imparting so grateful a quickness to the
rest, as supplies the want of Orange, Limon, and... therefore never to be excluded.' The
use of sorrel in preventing scurvy and fevers would have been of particular use to a
besieged garrisons, Scarborough’s garrison during the first Civil War was crippled by
scurvy, with only 25 men being fit for duty2 before they surrendered (Firth 1917, 586;
Binns 1996, 160) and it was a constant threat to the besieged. Examples such as this
demonstrate how raw ingredients did not have to be transformed to participate in social
discourse as they were already significant in their own right.
3.4.1 Bread
Cheese, meat, bread and some form of grain (wheat, corn or oats depending on the area
of the country) dominate most army provision lists. The parish of Rugeley,
Staffordshire is a typical example of this, providing the men billeted with a certain Mr.
Spratt four cheeses, four quarts of oats and five ‘doz of bread’ worth £2 and 10 shillings
(Mander 1941, 150), and William Hinde noted that without bread the Parliamentarian
army would not last another day (Dore 1990, 152-3). However, despite its importance,
evidence for baking at Civil War sites is virtually non-existent. At Dudley cereal bran
was only tentatively identified in the form of pollen, although this may be due to
difficulties in preservation or a preference for white bread on the behalf of the garrison
(Moffet 1992, 273). At Pontefract the deposits surrounding the ovens were removed by
Victorian excavations, although the conversion of the adjacent brewhouse into an
2
The figure of 25 men fit for duty may be an underestimation on the part of the governor, whose account
tries to avoid all blame for his eventual surrender of the castle (Binns 1996, 161).
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3 Consumption
industrial building suggests it may not have been used as a bakehouse during the siege
(Roberts 2002b, 40-41). This may be due to the difficulties in procuring flour, for
example at the siege of Brampton Bryan castle, ‘during the siege our sufferings were
great…All our bread was ground with a hand mill, our provisions were very scarce’
(Hudson 1993, 90). Therefore, the use of manually intensive labour to produce a limited
amount of food may have prevented its use under siege conditions.
Bread is also rarely mentioned in contemporary accounts, items such as Drake’s diary
(Walker 1997, fig. 3.3) or the English Irish Souldier (fig. 3.1) omit it altogether whilst
others only mention it in the context of staving off starvation rather than in connection
with social discourse. This suggests that despite its necessity it had little social
significance in sharp contrast to the other dietary staple, alcohol (see 3.4.4).
3.4.2 Dairy products
Dairying had a varying role in society, by the end of the 16th century diminishing from a
staple foodstuff to being suitable only for ‘the inferior sort’ (Harrison and Edelen 1994,
126). However, it still provided vital sustenance, for example a character in the 1594
play A Looking Glasse for London and England states that ‘my cow is a Commonwealth to me, for first sir, she allowes me, my wife and sonne, for to banket [banquet]
our selues withal, Butter, Cheese, Whay, Curds, Cream, sod 3 mild, raw-mile [milk],
sower-milke, sweete-milke, and butter-milke’ (Lodge and Greene 1970, 67). Dairy
products formed the mainstay of an army diet, being transported great distances to feed
troops (Thirsk 2006, 97). For example, William Savile wrote to Major Beaumont, the
governor of Sheffield castle, on the 3rd June 1643 to state that ‘I have att Pontefratt
Castle, that is for your house, twenty firkins of butter’ (Hunter 1819, 107). This extract
also demonstrates how key garrisons, such as Pontefract, were used as depots by which
other strongholds might be supplied, as match intended for Sheffield was also sent to
Pontefract (Hunter 1819, 107).
Cheshire cheese grew increasingly important in the mid-17th century, a trend associated
with the Civil War and its role in feeding the troops (Thirsk 2006, 280). Nantwich in
3
Boiled milk (Thirsk 2006, 93)
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3 Consumption
particular was noted for its cheese, and when Parliament fortified Beeston Castle in
Cheshire they installed as its governor a cheese merchant from the town, described as ‘a
rough-hewn man; no soldier’ (Dore 1995-1996, 106; Brereton 1646). The presence of a
milk strainer at Eccleshall castle is also testament to the important role it played within
Civil War garrisons (see fig. 6.14), although despite its prominence within financial
accounts there is little mention of it elsewhere, suggesting it had a similar social status
to bread.
3.4.3 Meat
Meat was a staple source of food during this period, comprising of up to three quarters
of the diet of most households (Brears 1985, 9) and was also of great social importance,
as attested by Nathan Drake, who only considered a man to be recovered from his
injuries when he could ‘speake & eate meate’ (Walker 1997, 58). The meat supplied
was often dependent on the location of the garrison, thus whilst beef was the primary
source of meat for the parliamentarian garrison of Great Chalfield, Wiltshire, with the
garrison consuming 40,000lb over the course of 180 days (Pafford 1940; Peachey 1988,
4), in Chester mutton dominated the diet (Peachey 1988, 4). Garrisons also
supplemented their diet with food which could be found in the local area, at Great
Chalfield for example a shilling was paid ‘for pitch and taw to mend the boat to fish the
moat’ (Pafford 1640, 68).
A comparison between the documentary evidence of meat consumption during a siege
and the archaeological evidence gives an insight into the relative social importance of
meat. A study of the different types of animal included within Nathan Drake’s diary
(see fig. 3.3) reveals the predominance of cattle, particular as the two references to
beasts probably relate to cattle as well (Holmes 1887, 51). However, a comparison of
Drake’s diary with the principal types of mammal bone found at the site, namely cattle,
sheep and pig, demonstrates how the diary favours cattle over the other two sources of
food (figs. 3.4 and 3.5). This is partially due to the need to graze cattle, as most of the
references to cattle concern injuries or fatalities suffered by individuals gathering fodder
or overseeing grazing of the animals. However, sheep have similar requirements and yet
their only mention is in conjunction with Parliamentarian provisioning as opposed to the
Royalists; ‘this morning the enemy drove both sheepe & Cattell towardes Ferry Brigge’
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3 Consumption
(Walker 1997, 30). Pigs are also only mentioned once, in conjunction with a morale
boosting episode when ‘in the fore noone there Came downe 5 very good hogs…and
our Souldyers seeing them (out of the Barbican), went out & fetcht then [them] in, wch
was a good booty for the Souldyers’ (Walker 1997, 26). The preoccupation with cattle
as opposed to other animals demonstrates their social standing, as unlike sheep and pigs
they are the subject of numerous entries.
Unlike most foods, meat was also the subject of religious observances, which meant its
consumption had great social significance. The garrison of Sheffield, for example, were
to be supplied enough fish, ‘as will serve you one day in a weeke for a yeare’ (Hunter
1819, 107). The role of religion was an important aspect of consumption during this
period, particularly in conflicts both at home and abroad. During a siege at Rochelle ‘he
[God] sent into their [the besieged Protestants] Haven (never seen among them before)
exceeding multitudes of Muscles, Cockles and small fishes, whereby they plentifully
stored themselves in despite of the Romish Catholiques their enemies’ (Parker 1642, 6).
The importance of faith is also demonstrated by the deliverance of the Protestant
besieged by divine providence as God was on their side as opposed to the Catholic
besiegers, and was a feature of other garrisons, such as Raglan castle (see 3.4.4).
The complexity of exploring the social discourse of consumption during this period is
demonstrated through the animal bones found at Civil War sites. For example, the
appearance of juvenile cattle bones at castles such as Pontefract has been cited as
evidence that the garrisons were on the verge of starvation (Richardson 2002, 384), yet
it was the fashion during this period to consume younger, rather than older, beasts
(Thirsk 2006, 46, 80). Therefore, although starvation may have been a partial cause for
juvenile slaughter the social discourse behind the consumption of food at these sites was
still complex. Similarly, when besiegers finally entered Beeston castle at the end of the
siege they found that the defenders had ‘neither meate, Ale nor Beere…save only a
peece of Turkey pye, Twoe Bisketts, a lyve Peacock and a peahen’ (Malbon 1889, 189).
This preservation of a peacock at a time of starvation, albeit a bird that, according to
contemporary accounts, had an unappetising taste (Fothergill 2013, 43) demonstrates
the importance of social factors when considering the consumption of food at these
sites; even when under starvation conditions the consumption of food was far from
straightforward.
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3.4.4 Drink
As one study puts it, ‘to consider seventeenth-century drinking is to consider friendship,
community, conviviality’ (Smyth 2004, xv). It is also the study of the role of alcohol, as
the health risks presented by water meant its participation in many people’s lives was
negligible and so alcohol was a daily necessity, as indicated by Drake’s diary (see
below, 3.6.2). Although there were several types of drink mentioned by Gervase
Markham in 1613, including ale, beer, perry, cider and mead, wine was also an
important part of consumption, albeit one which could not be produced by the
household (Markham 1986, 137). Other drinks were also important, Brilliana Harley for
example exhorted her son to drink liquorice juice as a cure for colds, or beer with
liquorice for the kidneys (Hudson 1993, 28, 29) and, like herbs, many forms of alcohol
were also seen as medicinal (Curth and Cassidy 2004).
The social role played by alcohol is emphasised by The English Irish Souldier (fig. 3.1),
which lists its qualities as being able to subdue fear and provide courage. This can be
seen in several contemporary documents, including a letter from the Royalist Sir
Richard Byron at Newark to Prince Rupert dated 8th May 1644 in which he states that
the enemy may force an attack on the town either through encouragement or by filling
them with alcohol (RCHM 1964, 19). Although traditionally the mass consumption of
alcohol and its resulting drunken behaviour were associated with the Royalists, in
reality the picture was far more complex, the inhabitants of Malmesbury complaining
that a number of the Parliamentarian garrison, ‘have rather applied themselves to
excessive drinking, profane swearing, and vicious and riotous living’ (Pafford 1940,
29). As this insight demonstrates, there was little difference between the conduct of
either side, probably because heavy drinking was an accepted form of release after
heavy exertion (Clark 1983, 114). Nevertheless, just as Parliamentarians may have
reviled the Royalists for their heavy drinking, so many Royalists gloried in it due to the
connotations such behaviour implied (Keblusek 2004, 60).
Unlike foodstuffs such as cheese and bread, there was a deep social significance in the
consumption of alcohol, probably due to its sensual effects. Drink was frequently
personified, thus in one publication wine is never separate from tobacco and is a
‘companion of Princes’, beer, rarely seen with wine, is a drunkard and ale is the
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3 Consumption
mediator between the two as ‘the prince of liquours’ on the basis of its antiquity,
wisdom and strength (Anon 1629). They also contained an implicit social hierarchy, the
same source labelling wine as a drink for the elite, beer a drink for the urban middling
classes and ale as appropriate for the countryside (Anon 1629, C2; Curth and Cassidy
2004, 143-4). The idea of wine as a superior drink is demonstrated by Robert Herrick,
who clearly stated in The Welcome to Sack that wine and poetry were inextricably
linked and were of a far higher standard than beer, which could only be confined to ‘the
Tap, the Tost, the Turfe’ (Herrick 1915, 80). Herrick’s poetry is full of classical
references when referring to wine, reinforcing the idea that it was the drink intended for
the upper echelons of society, even if it might occasionally filter down the social scale.
Beer on the other hand was consumed by drunkards who were rude and lazy and gout is
similarly deemed to have been caused by beer as opposed to wine (Brown 2004, 8).
This demarcation of rank on the basis of the type of drink consumed was maintained by
Royalist exiles, who embraced wine as matching their elite Cavalier image (Keblusek
2004). Wine was seen as leading to poetic eloquence whereas beer led to drudgery and
could be associated with the opposing side, a phenomenon which was to persist until the
end of the 17th century (Jones 2004, 87). Beer was also seen as a foreigners drink, or a
‘Dutch Boorish Liquor’ (Taylor 1651, 11), thus consumption caused a degradation of
English values (Anderson 1971, 98). One poem (Mews 1646), probably authored by a
Catholic (Curth and Cassidy 2004, 147), goes further by suggesting that ‘with this same
beere came up heresies here, the old Catholike drinke is a pot of good ale’ (Mews 1646,
6), suggesting beer as the mark of the new Parliamentarian rulers. As ale had been seen
as a drink only for the rural population by this period, this statement is also evidence of
the reminiscences for the past life, a theme which can be seen in other forms of
consumption (see below, 9.5.1).
3.5
Containers for consumption
The importance of the material culture in which food was prepared is demonstrated by
Gervase Markham's comments in 1613 on the three types of material used to produce
dairy containers and their varying popularity amongst their users. He states that ‘only
this opinion is generally received, that the wooden vessel which is round and shallow is
best in cold vaults, the earthen vessels principal for long keeping, and the leaden vessels
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3 Consumption
for yielding so much cream’ (Markham 1986, 170). Earthenware was particularly
important for the purposes of dairying, cream being recommended to be kept in an
earthenware vessel to preserve it whereas butter was recommended to be made in a
wooden bowl or ‘pancheon of earth’, and earthenware vessels played a key role in the
production of cheese (Markham 1986, 171, 172, 176). These comments demonstrate
that containers were not always chosen due to their financial value, but rather for their
social properties, in this case wooden vessels were deemed to be more useful than
leaded ones in specific circumstances. However, vessels could also be multi-purpose,
for example a bowl could be used for the preparation of medicine, food or as a serving
device (Pennell 1999, 44), whilst the Venetian glasses purchased by the Great Chalfield
garrison (see table 3.1) were for both beer and wine.
Despite this, there was often a social hierarchy in the types of vessels used, as
demonstrated by William Harrison’s comments:
‘As for drink, it is usually filled in pots, goblets, jugs, bowls of silver in noblemen’s
houses, also in fine Venice glasses of all forms, and for want of these elsewhere, in pots
of earth of sundry colors and molds, whereof many are garnished with silver, or at the
leastwise in pewter’
(Harrison and Edelen 1994, 127)
Here it is glass and metal which are given prominence over the ‘pots of earth’, and the
varying significance of each of these materials, in addition to wood, will be explored
below. However, it should be noted that most documentary evidence is ambiguous in
terms of the material containers were made from, thus Brilliana Harley refers to ‘bottles
of cider’ without reference to the material of manufacture (Hudson 1993, 28).
3.5.1 Ceramics
Despite the ways in which ceramics were active in social discourse, they are a prime
example of how examination of their production has been favoured to the detriment of
consumption (Miller 1987, 3). Thus, with a few notable exceptions (e.g. Boyle 2006,
216-259, Cumberpatch 2003), studies of ceramics during the early medieval period have
focussed overwhelmingly on production sites with little emphasis on their use in social
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discourse (e.g. Crossley 1990, 243-274). However, the adaptability of ceramics, as well
as their durability, meant their uses were varied and extended far beyond the purpose for
which they were manufactured.
Ceramics, being extremely cheap, were used for almost every household task, including
cooking, drinking, storage and even candlesticks. This does not mean they held no
social significance, as attested by the drinking vessels with which the English Irish
Souldier’s socks are gartered (see fig. 3.1). However, due to their low value individual
items rarely appear in social accounts (Weatherill 1996, 110) and there are only
occasional references to the purchase of pottery within Civil War accounts (for a rare
example of this see below, 3.6.1). When they are mentioned, it is often due to their
contents rather than the objects themselves, such as the two pots of butter requested
from the constable of Wrottesley (Sherwood 1992, 82).
Although many vessels were multi-purpose, there are occasional references to specific
forms of pottery in diaries or in personal correspondence. Thus in a letter to her son in
Oxford dated the 29th November 1639 Lady Brilliana Harley states ‘all my fruit dishes
are broken; therefore, good Ned, if there be any such blue and white dishes as I used to
have for fruit, buy me some; they are not porcelain, nor are they of the ordinary metal of
blue and white dishes’ (Hudson 1993, 30). Other references are to storage vessels,
important as a means of preserving foodstuffs. This includes butter pots from the
midlands (Brears 1971a, 243-244), but other food, including meat, was preserved by
placement within a vessel and sealing it with butter. This process is demonstrated in the
following account for an account for Lord Arundel from Sheffield Castle in 1642:
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‘Charges of sending venison to London for my Lo. Arundall.
Paid for a dozen earthen potts to bake £1 12 0
venison in, to send to London
Item paid for butter for fillinge the potts 1 12 0
with the venison
Item paid more for butter for fillinge the 1 12 0
potts at the second bakeing
Item paid Rich. Wadsworth for spice, for 2 2 10
seasoning the venison
John Hemmingway for the carriage of XII 2 7 0
potts of venison to London
Items paid for canvass to tye upon the 0 3 7
heads of the potts’
(Hunter 1819, 103)
The preservation of meat and other perishables was a well-established practice as meat
sealed in butter remained edible for up to six months (Young and Emberton 1974, 90)
and large ceramic vessels were vital for the sustenance of a large garrison, particularly
those threatened by siege.
Certain vessels were important due to their properties, thus the glaze on ceramic vessels
prevented the seepage of the liquids they contained, important in the manufacture of
dairy products (Markham 1986, 173). The use of ceramics in dairying is particularly
important; for example a study of probate inventories in Essex showed that 75% of the
ceramic mentioned in inventories were located in dairies. These may have been larger,
and thus more valuable, vessels but nevertheless this example demonstrates the social
significance of ceramics in dairying as the same percentage was found in households of
low and high status (Deetz 1977, 55).
The use of glazes, as well as the non-standardisation of forms, meant there were indeed
‘sundry colors and molds’ (Harrison and Edelen 1994, 127), and vessels were
individually recognisable. Some producers even put unique marks on their vessels
which could identify them, such as the triple fingermarks under handles from
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3 Consumption
Wrenthorpe, West Yorkshire (Moorhouse and Slowikowski 1992, 97, see SAND817
and PONT1479 for examples). This has important implications for the use of ceramic
objects during the Civil War, as they could be immediately identified with a place of
manufacture (see below, 7.4.5 for Sandal and 8.4.5 for Pontefract).
3.5.2 Glass
There are two principal types of glass vessels; the forest green or potash glasses with a
characteristic green tint made in many small furnaces and the clear crystal glasses made
in London or imported from the continent (Willmott 2002, 5-6). By the mid-17th century
glass was not as valued as it had been previously (Willmott 2005, 138-140), thus in one
pamphlet when wine remarks ‘I am served in plate’ ale retorts, ‘but thou art come
downe of late to a glasse’ (Anon 1629, C). However, it was still considered valuable not
just because of its monetary value but also its physical properties, thus in Herrick’s How
he would drinke his Wine the poet states ‘Fill my Wine in Christall; thus, and thus/ I
see’t in puris naturalibus’ (Herrick 1915, 188). The use of façon de Venise in this
context was important, not because of the wealth it may have implied, but the
improvement it gave to its contents. The value of glass was also compounded through
its fragility, much to the disgust of Harrison as ‘they breed much strife toward such as
have the charge of them….their pieces do turn unto no profit’ (Harrison and Edelen
1994, 128). Like wine, crystal glass also became linked to the royal course, thus in 1660
it was found that ‘many people regarded fine crystal as a relic of royalty’ (Thorpe 1961,
135).
The fragility of glass and its role in social discourse is demonstrated by the following
incident at Brampton Bryan, where the Royalists, ‘gave us [the Parliamentarian
besieged] three shots out of the steeple which broke some Venice glasses in a high
tower which formerly entertained some of those capon-faced cowards who have
unmanned themselves in offering violence to so noble a lady, an action which will
render them odious to man’ (Bath 1904, 4). The ‘capon-faced cowards’ in this instance
had not only disobeyed the laws of chivalry but, moreover, had broken the laws of
hospitality by breaking the very glasses with which they had been entertained (Willmott
2002, 28). Therefore, as a container for alcohol, glass was fundamental in social
discourse amongst the higher echelons of society.
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3 Consumption
By the Civil War the glass industry in England had collapsed due to the Scots invasion
of 1640, higher prices due to a monopoly on glass production and finally the total
banning of glass production by Parliament in 1642 (Charleston 1984, 74-78; Willmott
2002, 11). Even before this, the monopoly had meant the closure of all other forest glass
furnaces, including those surrounding Eccleshall (Sheale 1993, 10). As a result, the
majority of vessels found at Civil War sites were several decades old at the time of
deposition.
3.5.3 Metal
Metal was the most expensive of material used for culinary objects and was often
recycled; therefore, it rarely appears in the archaeological record. Despite this difficulty,
it is imperative that its use should be considered, as it played a vital role in social
discourse (Martin 1991, 161). This is clearly demonstrated by the assemblage from the
Mary Rose, which contained 75 pewter and nine copper alloy vessels compared to just
50 ceramic vessels (Weinstein 2005a, 423-429).
The malleability of metals meant they were often used for large items such as cooking
pots as well as smaller items such as plates, which due to their shape were not
manufactured in earthenware until the mid-18th century (Weatherill 1996, 8). Pewter
was predominantly used for food serving vessels such as platters, saucers and dishes,
although it could also be used in the manufacture of spoons (Duncan 2002, 255).
Copper-alloy was employed in the manufacture of cooking vessels such as cauldrons
(see fig. 3.1) and iron was used for knives, a universal personal possession during this
period.
The malleability of pewter meant it was used to convey important social messages
regarding status, for example eleven of the platters deposited on the Mary Rose were
stamped with the initials of Vice Admiral George Carew and a further three bore the
arms of the Lord High Admiral of the Fleet, Lord Lisle (Weinstein 2005b, 440-441).
The restriction of pewter to the wealthier members of society meant it could be used to
demarcate rank, as the majority of the populace were forced to use less valuable objects
such as ceramic and wooden vessels.
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3 Consumption
During the Civil War plate was also in great demand as a means of financing the two
opposing armies. Thus Brilliana Harley faced a dilemma with her husband’s belongings,
concluding to her son Ned that ‘it were better to borrow money, if your father will give
any, than to give his plate. For we do not know what straits we may be put to, and
therefore I think it is better to borrow whilst one may, and keep the plate for a time of
need’ (Hudson 1993, 40). An appeal near Stratford to maintain the Parliamentarian
garrison at Warwick castle gained a significant response, with Thomas Nash (married to
the sole heir of William Shakespeare) donating 364 ounces of plate worth 5s. 4d. an
ounce (Tennant 1996, 25), whilst the garrison at Scarborough castle used pieces of plate
to make their Civil war coinage (Firth 1917, 585). However, it should be noted that only
the wealthiest households felt able to respond to this request, as not all households had
access to these objects. Consequently, pewter had an important role within certain
echelons of society, but its use was restricted. Although it is important to appreciate its
role within contemporary discourse, its loss only impacts the study of one particular
group of people.
3.5.4 Bone, horn, ivory and leather
The role of animal products in medieval consumption practices is well attested (e.g.
MacGregor 1985; 199l; MacGregor et al. 1999) but the role they play in the early 17th
century is subject to only minor study. However, bone, horn, ivory and leather were all
used to produce elements used in the consumption of food and drink including knives,
spoons and drinking vessels. With the exception of bone, all these material rarely
survive archaeologically.
Horn, bone and ivory were all employed in the manufacture of handles for a number of
objects including knives. There was a hierarchy in the type of material used, with wood
usually being more common than other materials such as bone (e.g. Duncan 2002, 264;
Every and Richards 2005, 145). However, at Pontefract six out of sixteen handles
retrieved during the excavations were made from elephant ivory (O’Connor and Duncan
2002, 306-7). As a relatively rare material, and moreover one traded for its own sake as
opposed to a by-product of food production, the use of ivory in this context reflects the
use of a simple knife as a social artefact. Its predominance at this site may be indicative
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3 Consumption
of the relative status of its volunteer defenders, many of whom were of the “middling
sort”.
Leather played a vital role in the consumption of liquids through their use as blackjacks
(large leather jugs) or bottles, eleven of the latter being found on board the Mary Rose
(Weinstein 2005a, 428). It was also more durable than pottery vessels, leading to the
Earl of Northumberland replacing the latter with the former in his households at
Wressle and Leconfield Castles (Cherry 1991, 314). Unlike pottery, the fabric from
which the vessels were made could also have particular significance, as demonstrated
by a blackjack supposedly belonging to Oliver Cromwell and manufactured from the
skin of his horse, Black Jack (BBC 2011).
3.5.5 Wood
Although less popular than during the medieval period, wooden vessels were still used
during this period, as evidenced by their inclusion in the deposits at St. Paul-in-the-Bail,
Lincoln (Morris 2008). Their importance in the early post-medieval period is
emphasised by the assemblage from the Mary Rose, which included 194 serving vessels
(predominantly bowls and dishes), 27 tankards and fifteen flagons (Weinstein 2005a,
424). Despite this predominance they rarely appear in contemporary documents due to
their low financial value, being even cheaper than ceramic vessels (Draper 2001, 7).
Their organic properties also means they are recovered only rarely from archaeological
deposits.
Despite their anonymity in both the contemporary and archaeological records, these
vessels must still be included in any consideration of social discourse during this period.
However, although they have a limited impact on drinking vessels, wood, along with
pewter vessels, occupies a niche which is largely unfulfilled by ceramic vessels, that of
food serving vessels. As a result, their impact on the wider dining assemblage is
restricted and it is still possible to analyse the significance of consumption within the
archaeological record.
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3 Consumption
3.6
Consumption during the Civil War
Food and drink played a crucial role in defining and sustaining groups during the Civil
Wars. Indeed, some writers claimed the conflict was dominated by issues of food, as
demonstrated by the following lines:
‘now they laugh, at giving Battle
Unless it be to Herds of Cattle:
Or fighting convoys of Provision,
The whole design of the Expedition.
And not with down-right bloews to rout
The Enemy, but eat them out...
There’s no fear of wounds nor maiming,
All dangers are reduced to famine’
(Butler 1806, 384-385)
Although food was of great economic import, as supply chains played a key role in the
Parliamentarian victory (Edwards 1998, 250), it was also of huge social importance.
Two areas in particular need to be studied: firstly how goods were procured and
secondly how they were used in communal consumption. Naturally artefacts and
foodstuffs were destroyed both during and after the conflict but this will be discussed in
the next chapter.
3.6.1 Procurement of goods
To focus solely on the purchase of goods is to ignore the way in which they were used
and eventually discarded. It is this aspect that is particularly important when studying
material culture during the Civil War. Although it has been suggested that some, such as
Sandal, purchased bulk supplies (Brears 1983, 219), at others this is clearly not the case
(for analysis of Sandal see 7.4.5). For example, the accounts for Great Chalfield,
Wiltshire (table 3.1), demonstrate that small purchases of ceramic and glass vessels
were made when the need arose, such as a shilling paid ‘for earthenwares about the
house’ (Pafford 1940, 70) and 6d ‘for a great earthen jug for the use of the table’
(Pafford 1940, 72). These entries also indicate how inexpensive such items were, as
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3 Consumption
even Venetian glasses, sometimes seen as relatively high-status items, only cost the
garrison 4d each, less than a large earthenware jug.
At the outbreak of war, the importance of procuring food was already noted. The recent
wars on the Continent were well documented for their lack of food and one pamphlet
published on the 2nd July 1642, less than two months before Charles I raised the Royal
Standard at Nottingham, noted that the inhabitants of one town were reduced to making
‘meat of their old shooes, horns, horses, and bullocks hoofs which had many years lien
in the dunghill….roots, herbs, grasse and bark of trees were accounted for dainties’
(Parker 1642, 6). Therefore, the need to provision castles and other headquarters was of
paramount performance. Lucy Hutchinson had reason to complain that Nottingham
Castle, ‘was as ill provided as fortified, there being but 10 barrels of powder, 1150
pounds of butter, and as much cheese, 11 quarters of bread corn, 7 beeves, 214 flitches
of bacon, 560 fishes, and 15 hogsheads of beer’ (Hudson 1993, 83). The areas
surrounding the various garrisons were dominated by requests for food to supply both
the garrison and the army, thus the constable of Wrottesley was requested in April 1644
to supply prince Rupert’s army with 40 quarter malt, 20 quarter wheat, 20 hundred
weight of bacon, 20 hundredweight of salt butter and ‘your rateable part of forty
hundred weight of good sound cheese’ (Shaw 1798, 61 cited in Sherwood 1992, 81).
It was under conditions of siege that people suffered most as armies forced to be static
had to rely on supplies from outside the local area for sustenance. This problem afflicted
the besiegers as much as the besieged, whilst besieging Chester the Parliamentarians
stated that ‘if we be not forthwith supplied with bread and meal within 24 hours we
shall be put to a greater mischief than we can express’ (Dore 1990, 146). However, even
within wartime, the procurement of food was used to maintain social hierarchies. At
Great Chalfield Manor occasional small items such as jackfish (Pafford 1940, 69) and
‘wine for the Governor’ (Pafford 1940, 71) are indicative of luxuries available to
officers only (Peachey 1988, 4). Evidence for this is even stronger within Drake’s diary
where, at the end of the siege when the garrison was at the point of starvation:
‘the Governor sent into all the Gentlemen’s Chambers wthin the Castle to see what
p’vition they Could (find…) allowing to themselves no more then [sic] a common
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3 Consumption
Souldyer, that soe wee might all live or want together; wch being done, there was
p’vition found to keepe us all at a reasonable rate of dyate about (blank) daies’
(Walker 1997, 58)
This entry is telling in two respects. Firstly, the officers of the garrison had their own
private supply of provisions but secondly they were allotted more than an ordinary
soldier, so that by handing out their personal stores the whole garrison could expect to
be sustained for several days. This is indicative of the fact that even when the garrison
was at the point of starvation, the officers maintained a superior diet until the last
possible moment. The situation at Pontefract is mirrored by the inhabitants of Chester,
where only the wealthier inhabitants ate beef and bacon whilst the soldiers were forced
to boil their bread in beer as their only form of sustenance (Dore 1990, 365).
Aside from the obvious employment of starving a garrison into submission, foodstuffs
also became a psychological weapon, either to demonstrate chivalry on the one side or
parsimony on the other. For example, despite being at war Parliament permitted the
transportation of the King’s favourite wine from London to Oxford, along with other
necessities that passed through periodically (Sherwood 1992, 72), emphasising their
initial claims that it was not the King they were fighting, but rather his misguided
advisors. On the other hand Nathan Drake writes how ‘the enemy basely stayd all wine
from coming to the Castle for serving of the Communion upon Easter Day’ despite the
Parliamentarian governor giving instructions to the contrary (Walker 1997, 19).
Examples such as this demonstrate that the procurement of foodstuffs for consumption
was just as socially active as the consequent rituals of eating and drinking.
3.6.2 Communal Consumption
Communal consumption has always played an important role in social discourse and the
17th century is no exception. Although food and drink were also consumed
individually, communal consumption played an important role in military life. The
battle plan of Naseby includes a large suspended cooking pot capable of feeding several
people (fig. 3.2) and at Great Chalfield there are several references to ‘making clean the
hall and tables where the soldiers dine’ (Pafford 1940, 77). This practice was typical of
this period as early Stuart yeoman households contained an average of around eight to
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3 Consumption
ten members and dining practices meant all, from the servants to the head of the
household, would have shared the daily meal (Anderson 1971, 234). As a result
hospitality was an integral part of social identity, the governor of Nottingham was
praised by his wife, Lucy Hutchinson, for paying for the drink his soldiers partook
whilst abroad in the country and running into heavy debt because of his generosity to
his followers at ‘his table’, which at times had ‘more room and meat than guests’
(Hudson 1993, 100, 106). The provision of food could be an important guarantee of the
troop’s loyalty; it only took Parliamentarian Hastings Ingram a decent meal to persuade
a group of would-be deserters to change their mind (Tennant 1996, 46). As a result, the
cooking of food meant it had a key symbolic and as well as physical role in the
maintenance of group identity (Weatherill 1996, 146). This hospitality extended beyond
the boundaries of loyalty to King or Parliament, thus the Royalist officer requesting
Parliament surrender Nottingham town and castle was entertained by the governor and
offices and given wine (Hudson 1993, 98).
Communal groups were often linked with communal drinking, Mr. Hill earning
Brilliana Harley’s displeasure as he was ‘much given to keep company and so to drink,
and I fear he will put his mind much to plundering’ (Hudson 1993, 69). The link
between drink and plunder was confirmed by the destruction linked to alcohol during
the conflict, as depicted in contemporary woodcuts (e.g. fig. 3.1). There was, however, a
less criminal element to drinking, group drinking in peacetime could be seen at times of
festivity to be an opportunity to bond with the local gentry and alcohol has long been
used as a means of maintaining and reproducing social identities (Brown 2004, 5;
Wilson 2005, 3). After the war wine was used as a way of reaffirming friendships
amongst those defeated Royalists forced into exile, with drinking rituals both referring
to friends and also the traditions of the past, a pattern mirrored by the Royalists who
remained in England (Keblusek 2004; Jones 2004).
The use of communal drinking in the form of pledges is a key concept, being a ‘very
public display of the close social bonds and group solidarity forged by kinship ties
among the elite’ (O’ Callaghan 2004, 45) which were underpinned by ideas of honour
and friendship. As a result there was an emphasis on the company you drank with, as to
a certain extent this could be deemed to reflect the sort of person you were. The poet
Robert Herrick in his poem The Hock-cart uses the idea of drinking around the hearth,
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the lord and tenants combined (Brown 2004, 5), as a way of inducing solidarity and
accounts of the Civil War suggest similar events took place here.
The use of food and drink are also particularly strong when used to evoke memories of
the past, thus Herrick in The Wassaile bemoans times in the past when food and drink
were plentiful (Brown 2004, 6). The feelings of nostalgia evoked by the use of alcohol
is extremely important in the context of the Civil War, where the pre-war period was
increasingly seen as a time of idyllic peace and plenty. This feeling was maintained
after the war, Robert May noting that;
‘such Noble Houses were then [in the early 17th century] kept, the glory of that, and the
shame of this present Age... then was Hospitality esteemed, Neighbourhood preserved,
the Poor cherished, and God honoured...then did men strive to be good, rather then to
seem so.’
(May 1685, A6v)
Such nostalgia is important when considering the assemblages from this period,
consisting as they do of a significant amount of antiquated material culture (see below,
9.4) as it demonstrates the way in which the past was idealised during the conflict.
3.7
Conclusion
Consumption of foodstuffs played a primary role in all aspects of garrison activities
during the Civil War. Food, drink and their associated material culture were of vital
importance to the maintenance of social discourse at these sites, as evidenced through
woodcuts such as The English Irish Soldier and Nathan Drake’s diary. Therefore, by
applying this knowledge to the archaeological material retrieved from garrison sites it is
possible to examine in detail social discourse during the Civil War.
There is, however, one aspect of consumption which has not been examined during the
course of this chapter, namely destruction. This final act of consumption is one of the
key aspects of the Civil War as well as being the primary source for the vast majority of
archaeological assemblages related to the conflict. Due to its importance, it is analysed
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separately as it is only after fully understanding this aspect that social discourse at
castles can be fully understood.
61
62
4 Destruction
4
Destruction
‘The violence of the first civil war, in England at least, was directed less against persons
than it was against property’ (Carlton 1992, 264)
4.1
Introduction: the case for a theory of deposition during the Civil War
Destruction is the inevitable consequence of war. Although it can be measured in
monetary terms or by the number of casualties, destruction is archaeologically most
visible through the ruined buildings and shattered artefacts it leaves behind. This is
particularly noticeable at castle sites, where the Civil War resulted in assemblages
discarded both during the conflict and in its aftermath, when many buildings were
slighted. However, whilst the effect of the war on the built environment is well
understood (e.g. Rakoczy 2007; Mabbitt 2012), its effect on artefacts has not been
studied to the same extent.
The phenomenon of material culture deposited at siege sites is not solely related to the
Civil War, as attested by excavations at Fort William and Watson’s Fort, South Carolina
(Pollard 2008; Ferguson 1977). However, the national impact of the Civil War has
produced an unusually large number of sites with extensive deposits of destroyed
material. In order to understand these artefacts it is imperative to appreciate the actions
which both preserve and modify assemblages in the creation of the archaeological
record (Schiffer 1972, 156; 1987, 7; Thomas 1991, 56; Tani 1995, 231).
Each assemblage is as unique as the site in which it was destroyed. As a result, although
a broad social framework can be constructed for deposition during this period,
ultimately the occupation and abandonment of each site must be understood
contextually. This chapter explores the need for a theory of deposition in greater depth
before analysing the destruction of the three castles studied within this thesis. In so
doing, it demonstrates how the destruction of material culture was not the result of
meaningless devastation but instead was due to purposeful actions executed within a
site-specific social discourse.
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4.2
Structured deposition
It has long been established that there is no “Pompeii premise” in archaeology (e.g.
Binford 1981, 205; Schiffer 1985, 18). Therefore, the archaeological record is not a
perfect representation of the past, but is instead shaped by a series of formation
processes which produce the remains archaeologists study. As a result there is no such
thing as a fossilised record of past activities; excavated artefacts form only a biased
sample of the material that could have potentially entered the ground. Archaeological
studies of modern waste disposal practices have demonstrated that the relationship
between consumers and the rubbish is extremely complex and disposal practices in the
past were no simpler than those of the present (Rathje and Murphy 2001, 55-58). As a
result, before artefacts can be understood in terms of their social significance the way in
which they were discarded needs to be fully understood.
4.2.1 Site Formation Processes
Despite the complexity of archaeological deposits, there is often a tendency to identify
them without providing an explanation (Brudenell and Cooper 2008, 16). However, the
archaeological material found in deposits does not have a straightforward link to the
material consumed on that site, as both are subject to a plethora of linked and separate
social principles, and features containing refuse deposits ‘often exhibit a complex
depositional history’ (LeeDecker 1994, 347). Abandonment processes at any site,
including castles, are extremely complex and objects can be destroyed, deposited or a
combination of the two alongside the building itself (LaMotta and Schiffer 2002, 43-45;
Rakoczy 2007, 261). This can be clearly seen in the destruction of monasteries
following the Dissolution, where ‘the process of dismemberment is likely to have been
complex, requiring considerable care to disentangle’ (Greene 1992, 197). As a result, by
analysing the post-occupational history of a building it is possible to place not just the
destruction of property but also the destruction of material culture in its appropriate
context. Pursuing this approach also reveals key aspects of contemporary social
discourse, as the way in which artefacts are discarded can be as socially significant as
the manner in which it was used (Chapman 2000a, 359-360).
The complex motivations behind the deliberate deposition of objects is not restricted
solely to the 17th century, but instead pervades all human activity (see Richards and
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4 Destruction
Thomas 1984; Thomas 1991; Hill 1995; Chapman 2000a; 2000b for prehistoric
examples and Clarke 1996 for a study of Roman depositional practices). Even when
objects are discarded as ‘rubbish’, or seemingly no longer of practical or social use, the
act is still meaningful in defining social boundaries and the way the individual or group
conceptualises the world (Thompson 1979, 90-91), and the act of selecting items as
suitable for discard is itself a social one (Thomas 1991, 57). By treating deposits
through the examination of the social processes which created them as opposed to mere
rubbish, new insights can be gained into the social discourse at that particular site
(Chapman 2000a, 360).
4.2.2 Destruction and Abandonment
In order to understand the nature of destruction it is first necessary to distinguish this
from that of abandonment, as the outcomes and motivations of both acts are markedly
different. Abandonment, leading to decay without human interference, results in
demonstrably different deposits from that of destruction, which requires the active
breakage of objects and architecture through human agency. Therefore, when
interpreting archaeological assemblages, it is important to demonstrate these are the
result of deliberate action as opposed to ecological and other natural factors (Richards
and Thomas 1984, 214).
Destruction is a complex and multifaceted process (Rakoczy 2008a), and just as the
destruction of the buildings themselves is motivated by a complex social discourse, so
too is the destruction of the material within them. As a result, deposits found within
these contexts ‘cannot be assumed to have been a representative sample of everyday
life’ (Clarke 1996, 80) but instead are a transformation of this through the social
discourse surrounding destruction and abandonment. However, the large-scale deposits
at castles and other Civil War sites pose a problem to current approaches to deposition.
Closure deposits in other periods are often linked to spiritual rituals (e.g. Clarke 1996,
80) but, whilst the 17th century was not exempt from such deposits (e.g. Merrifield
1987, 163; contra Bradley 1990, 19), the destruction of material at Civil War sites
should be viewed as ideologically, as opposed to spiritually, motivated. As a result, the
identification of who deposited particular deposits is extremely important, as both sides
had separate political and social motivations. The question becomes not only ‘“whose
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trash is it” but “who deposited this trash?”’ (LeeDecker 1994, 368). As a result,
although the nature of destruction during this period needs to be understood, the unique
character of each site means deposits from each castle must be contextualised, as the
events at each castle are unique to that particular site.
4.3
Destruction in the Civil War
Accounts of the destruction of buildings during the Civil War often attribute damage to
direct enemy action or preventative measures by defenders (e.g. Thompson 1987, 138139). This is supported by contemporary accounts and advice, for example garrisons
were encouraged to lay waste to the ground surrounding their defences to avoid their
use by the enemy (Firth 1917; Walker 1997; Porter 1984b, 86). However, studies by
Rakoczy (2007) and Mabbitt (2012), have demonstrated a far greater complexity to
destruction than has previously been thought. Therefore, rather than linking material
culture with an unproblematic slighting of castles, it is essential to investigate the
complexity of the social discourse in which it was destroyed.
Destruction was not motivated by a single cause, and three areas are of particular
concern to this study:

Destruction during the course of a siege. This falls into two categories:
deliberate destruction by the defenders and incidental destruction that may have
occurred during the bombardment or siege through actions by both defenders
and attackers. For example, the clearance of suburbs at Exeter was part of an
effort to improve the town’s defences, whilst at Lyme Regis large areas were
fought over by the opposing sides, leaving much in ruins (Stoyle 1997). The
damage caused by clearances tended to be greater than that caused by
bombardment, as the latter were episodic or short-lived events, a notable
exception being the first siege at Scarborough, which lasted twenty-two weeks
without ceasefire or truce (Binns 1996, 150). A monument to this type of
damage is All Saints Church, Pontefract which was destroyed during the course
of the three sieges of the castle (fig. 4.1).
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4 Destruction

Damage caused by victors after the surrender of a garrison. This includes the
slighting of castles and the destruction of artefacts within the garrison itself.

Pillaging of buildings not related to siege warfare. This type of damage could
result from many motives, including the need to provision troops or destruction
for entertainment. This destruction was the most denounced form of destruction
on both sides and was the focus of many newssheets (e.g. Carlton 1992, 265; see
also Ryves 1643a; 1643b).
Although these types of destruction are clearly distinct, differentiating these within the
historical and archaeological record can be extremely difficult for a variety of reasons.
For example, several types of destruction could occur in a single event, such as the
sacking of a town by victorious troops who stole items indiscriminately. A building or
town could also be subjected to several different phases of destruction, for example
Sudely Castle was damaged by soldiers in 1642, its interior fittings burnt in 1646 and it
was finally slighted in 1650 (Warmington 1997, 78). Although we can talk broadly
about such categories they are by no means bounded. Nevertheless, it is still essential to
discuss the historical and archaeological evidence for these types of destruction as they
all have separate, complex motivations.
4.3.1 Destruction: the documentary evidence
There are detailed accounts of all aspects of damage caused by both sides during the
conflict and regional studies have enabled detailed analysis of the damage caused at a
local rather than national scale (e.g. Richardson 1997). Aside from requests for
compensation by the unfortunate victims, looting was also used for propaganda by both
sides, the misdemeanours of the opposition being highlighted to demonstrate their
infamy and the need to defeat them. Destruction could also be used as a threat; for
example in October 1645 the inhabitants of Elmley Lovett in Worcestershire were told
that unless they paid the required contribution to the Parliamentary Committee for
Worcestershire they would be imprisoned, their property looted and their houses burned
(Sherwood 1992, 77). The study of documents demonstrates the universal devastation
caused by the conflict, as well as highlighting the intricate social discourse surrounding
it.
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4.3.1.1 Destruction by siege
Studies of the urban preparation for sieges have demonstrated that the reasons behind
the demolition of buildings were extremely complex. For example, studies of the areas
destroyed at Exeter show that although one of the foci of destruction, St. Sidwells, was
vulnerable to attack it was also owned by the Dean and Chapter, and as such was a
target for the puritans who held the town as much for its symbolism as for its strategic
value (Stoyle 1996; 1997, 133). At Boarstall, the buildings were cleared very late in its
Civil War history; originally fortified in late 1643 by the Royalists the hall changed
hands twice before the surrounding village and church was demolished by the Royalists
in June and July 1645, possibly due to a reluctance to alienate the local population by
destroying their homes (Porter 1984b, 89).
The damage caused by this type of destruction was an annoyance at the very least.
However, there is very little documentary evidence of material culture being damaged
during this type of destruction. Although there are occasional references to material
property, such as Venetian glasses at the siege of Brampton Bryan (Bath 1904, 4, see
above, 3.5.2), it is far more likely to find accounts of buildings being destroyed during
or after the conflict than to find accounts of material possessions.
4.3.1.2 Victorious destruction
As Carlton (1992, 175) states, ‘ever since the walls came tumbling down at Jericho,
victorious soldiers have believed that they were entitled to a sack after taking a city.’
The burning and pillaging of cities and towns such as Birmingham, Cirencester and
Brentford was mirrored in the devastation caused at the fall of Basing House, Sherborne
Castle and Bretby (Carlton 1992, 175-176). It was understood that if a garrison refused
to surrender when requested, no quarter was to be expected or given if a subsequent
attack proved successful (Donagan 1994, 1144). The destruction of many buildings after
their capture by the Parliamentarians can be attributed to victorious destruction;
however, the motivations of such destruction may be complex (Rakoczy 2007, 258). For
example, according to Lady Hutchinson (2000, 249-250), her husband demolished the
castle at Nottingham to prevent Oliver Cromwell using it for his own personal gain,
despite the fact they were both on the same side. This type of vindictive destruction can
be seen at a number of other sites, including Eccleshall (see below, 4.6.1).
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Evidence for the destruction of castles comes largely from parliamentary motions for
their slighting, claims for the goods belonging to them, and eyewitness accounts. Often
the description of such events is extremely brief, thus the Earl of Chesterfield’s house at
Newark was described as being ‘burned’ (Hutchinson 2000, 204) and ‘Wiverton house
was by order pulled down and made incapable of being a garrison’ (Hutchison 2000,
204). However, where available they do offer insights in the movement of materials
around the country; for example the timber resulting from the slighting of Holt castle
was suggested as a means of rebuilding nearby houses damaged during the conflict
(Bennett 2000, 101).
4.3.1.3 Pillage
Although stealing for necessities and wanton destruction are separate categories, the
way in which they were reported often means that they occurred within the same event.
For example, Gruffyd ap Stephen lost £3, a horse worth £3 10s as well as clothes and
other belongings in a night time raid by the nearby Royalists at Abbeycwmhir (Bennett
2000, 98). Indiscriminate plundering by both sides meant that many in the country were
disillusioned with military ill-discipline. As the war progressed looting became endemic
and increasingly well-organised; for example at the battle of Edgehill men were
nominated to retrieve items of value from the field (Tennant 1996, 45).
Wherever you were in the country, it was impossible to escape destruction as where
there were troops, there was inevitably plunder for victuals, horses or for entertainment.
For example, the books belonging to Bulstrode Whitelocke were used as tapers by the
Royalists to light their tobacco pipes, an act which was on a par with the consumption
of £200 of hay and corn and the invasion of the house by soldiers and prostitutes
(Carlton 1992, 270). Even when the loot was useful this did not guarantee its safety. For
example, in Sandwich the Royalists destroyed the supplies of beer and wine that they
had not already consumed (Carlton 1992, 268, see also below, 9.5.1). Loyalty to a
particular side often mattered little; Stephen Powell’s house was plundered by
Parliamentarian forces whilst he was a prisoner of the Royalists (Bennett 2000, 100).
Although raiding a house for food and other essential supplies may seem to be a
necessary, if reprehensible, act the wider destruction of material within this context was
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often more than wilful violence. Religious belief or allegiance to a particular side may
have played a role, Coughton Court for example was ransacked with a focus on the:
‘abundance of Images and Pictures, which they brake and committed to the fire. They
likewise burnt many popish Bookes…and others were throwne into a great moate…In
the house we found 3 or 4 Murthering peeces, brasse pots, and a great sheet of lead
about 500 weight, which was hidden under the ground. The Souldiers dranke up his
Perry, Sider and Beere almost all, they did lye on his Fether-beds all night, and in the
Morning cut them, emptied out the feathers, carried the tike away with them, and also
silke hangings for the beds’
(Anon 1642b).
Such detailed accounts are relatively common for the loss of property relating to the
elite or the middling classes; however, similar accounts for the lower classes are far
scarcer. In addition, complaints could be exaggerated for propaganda or for personal
gain, for example the supposed ruination of Lady Scudamore’s house turned out to
consist of only slight damage to the roof of the chapel and the loss of some trees for
kindling (Carlton 1991, 268).
4.3.2 Destruction: the archaeological evidence
Documentary evidence can identify possible areas of devastation but finding physical
evidence to support this can be extremely problematic (Mabbitt 2012, 16-19). In some
cases this is due to difficulties in excavating and recognising Civil War remains, for
example despite their substantial size the remains of the London defences were
unidentified until recently (Anon 2011). Even when Civil War remains are visible, the
emphasis is all too often placed on the archaeology of defence or attack as opposed to
the archaeology of destruction (e.g. Courtney 2001; Foard 2001). Thus although artefact
scatters may be analysed (Foard 2001), the objects considered are all too often military
items such as musket shot rather than a broader analysis of material culture (although
see Mabbitt 2012, 141-151 for a study incorporating ceramics into the study of a Civil
War siegework at Sheepen, near Colchester). However, archaeology can still play a part
in the analysis of destruction during this period, as demonstrated by the examples
discussed below.
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4.3.2.1 Destruction by siege
Siege destruction is clearly visible in terms of damaged architecture, as demonstrated by
the scars made by cannon shot at Wingfield Manor, Derbyshire (Harrington 2004, 65).
However, it is extremely difficult to definitively identify material culture directly
associated with this type of devastation. One rare example is from Sandal Castle, where
the remains of a meal were destroyed by a collapsing wall (see below, 7.4.4).
4.3.2.2 Victorious destruction.
Much of the destruction within the archaeological record can be attributed to the
aftermath of conflict. This is visible both architecturally and archaeologically through
the large number of broken objects present at Civil War sites. For example, the large
number of burnt vessels at Basing House, Hampshire is evidence of the large fire which
swept the building after its surrender (Moorhouse 1970, 36). The systematic destruction
of artefacts is also a phenomenon noted at many castles including Dudley (Ratkai 1985,
n.p.). The complexity surrounding such destruction has been noted in studies of
architecture ruined during the conflict and these conclusions can be extended to cover
other forms of material culture (Rakoczy 2007; Mabbitt 2012).
4.3.2.3 Pillage
The wanton destruction of property during the conflict has very similar hallmarks to that
of victorious destruction, as they both result in large deposits of broken material. This
similarity emphasises the importance of placing sites into a specific historical context
when interpreting deposits. However, the archaeological evidence for pillage is the
archaeology of absence, as items which have been looted will not be present in the
archaeological record. For example, despite Beeston Castle in Cheshire being used as a
Parliamentarian storage facility for the valuable possessions of the local gentry (Barratt
1995, 3), very little evidence of this was found during the extensive excavations there
(Ellis 1993b, 122). As a result, studies of extant material culture associated with Civil
War destruction must consider objects which may not be present within the
archaeological record, particularly those made of metal which played a crucial role in
the consumption of foodstuffs (see above, 3.5.3).
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4.4
Deposition
Analysis of the majority of Civil War sites suggests that excavated material was
deliberately deposited and destroyed rather than abandoned. This is evidenced by both
the distribution and abundance of objects retrieved from a variety of locations including
wells (Mann 2008), around the base of towers (Ratkai 1985, n.p.) and within large voids
and depressions such as ditches and basements (Moorhouse 1970, 37-39). Therefore,
Civil War deposition can be seen as a form of destruction, a more purposeful form of
disposal with its own particular meaning. This phenomenon is not universal amongst
fortifications; studies of Fort Watson, South Carolina suggested that the ceramics
deposited there were looted as opposed to destroyed (Ferguson 1977, 55). As a result,
the large-scale deposits related to the conflict are extremely important and require a
detailed investigation of the social discourse which created them.
However, many publications concerning the Civil War interpret material culture as a
perfect representation of the occupation of the site by the defenders of the castle, in
some cases linking specific phases of sieges to individual contexts (e.g. Roberts 2002b,
108). In addition, although there are rare instances in which material can be deemed to
be preserved in situ (see below, 7.4.4), the depositional history of the majority of
artefacts is far more complex. Therefore, any study of artefacts related to the conflict
must first consider the motivations and methodology which resulted in their presence at
a given site.
4.4.1 Deposition: the documentary evidence.
The documentary evidence for the destruction of material during the Civil War far
outweighs the evidence for deposition. Occasional lines within accounts, such as
Farington being a ‘good hansome Market Towne turned into Ashes and Rubbidge’
(Taylor 1649) indicate that destroyed material was still evident in towns in 1649, but the
disposal of this waste is unclear. There are occasional references to clearance events
such as those related to the heavily damaged gateway and barbican at Scarborough
castle in 1645 (Binns 1996, 194). However, although some of the resultant building
materials were probably used to repair other areas of the castle or damaged buildings
within the town, the sources remain silent on the subject.
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It cannot be assumed that the destruction of a house meant the destruction of the
property within that house. The account of the steward, Robert Fawdon, at Milcote
house, Staffordshire, fired by the Parliamentarians on 5th December 1644 to prevent it
from being used as a Royalist garrison, was given time, albeit extremely limited, ‘to gett
what I could of Yor Honnrs [his master, the Earl of Middlesex] Goodes into the open
feilds, where the most part Lay that night; and betwixt souldiers & other badd people, a
greate deale thereof was lost’ (Kent Archive Office U269/E.126 cited in Tennant 1996,
109). The conflation of ‘souldiers’ with ‘badd people’ is particularly informative about
general feelings towards the infantry. Once the looting had stopped Fawdon was able to
make an inventory of what remained, although this was expanded at a later date. This
consisted of one large and five smaller trunks, mostly holding hangings and linen,
including cushions, bed furniture and India curtains. However, the fourth trunk
contained:
‘13 pewter dishes with my Lords Armes ingraven
two dozen and eleaven plates
9 sawcers
two greate chargers of old pewter
one greate bason
two old dishes
2 pie plates
one pastie plate
one Salte
8 Chamberpotts
8 stoole panes
2 bed panes’
(Kent Archive Office U269/E.228/10 cited in Tennant 1996, 111)
Even though the list includes several items described as ‘old’, and thus does not
represent the most expensive items relating to the household, the fact that Fawdon saved
them suggests they still had some value. A similar pattern can be seen at a house in
Shropshire where Mr. Barker’s daughters rescued sixteen cart-loads of furniture, fittings
and provisions when their house was burnt down, only to have the soldiers who
destroyed their house plunder the things they had salvaged (Sherwood 1992, 119).
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Where rare accounts of deposition do survive, they are almost always due to the
slighting of castles, such as the accounts at Pontefract detailing the infilling of the
ditches (see below, 4.6.3). At Newark the task of backfilling the siege works was given
to the local villagers who apparently completed the task within a week, although this is
indicative of a lack of thoroughness rather than industry on the part of the workforce as
many of the earthworks still remain (RCHM 1964, 24). It can be assumed that much of
the waste left behind at castle sites was also used as convenient backfill along with the
earth that had originally been extracted.
4.4.2 Deposition: the archaeological evidence.
Within the archaeological record there are four types of deposition associated with Civil
War sites; incidental deposition, proactive deposition, ambiguous deposition and
hoards.
1. Incidental deposition. This may be identified as destruction resulting from action
as part of the siege or accidental destruction in the subsequent dismantling of the
fortification. Archaeological examples include the destruction of a dining
assemblage at Sandal castle (Brears 1983, 224), where two cooking vessels and
the remains of a meal were crushed by falling masonry, or the bodies of two
workmen at Rievaulx abbey crushed by masonry during the dismantling of the
chapter house (Fergusson and Harrison 1999, 188; Masinton 2008, 244). Such
examples are rare, however it is important that they are identified as such events
are incidental to the principal motivations of those responsible for destruction.
2. Proactive deposition. This can be defined as artefacts resulting from the
deliberate deposition of material culture, often within large depressions and
voids left by the demolition of buildings and change of land use. The accounts
for Pontefract castle give explicit instructions for the ‘filling upp of graftes about
the said Castle’ (Fox 1987, 146; Rakoczy 2008b, 263; see below, 4.6.3), and the
infilling of cellars and other voids within this building and many others can be
seen as part of similar intentional acts.
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3. Ambiguous deposition. The motivations for the destruction of castles are
extremely complex and thus it can be impossible to determine the motivations
that result in some deposits. An example of this type of destruction is the
deposits from Basing House, where many ceramic vessels proactively deposited
within the ditch were burnt (Moorhouse 1970; 1971a; Allen and Anderson 1999,
66). However, significant damage was also caused by the preceding
bombardment and as a result it is difficult to relate the destruction of artefacts to
a particular event. Such examples demonstrate that the causality of destruction is
complex and sites can contain a combination of incidental and proactive
destruction, at times even within the same assemblage.
4. Hoards. Over 200 hoards are associated with the Civil War, including Tregwynt,
Pembrokeshire (Besly 1998), Breckenbrough, North Yorkshire (Besly 1987, 616) and Middleham, North Yorkshire (Barclay 1994). Many of these, including
those from Breckenborough and Middleham, are contained within ceramic
vessels indicating a further use for these objects during the conflict. Another
example of a hoard is from Newark, where a brown-glazed jug uncovered in
August 1957 contained 465 silver and seventeen gold coins, an early 17thcentury thimble, a casket, a sealing wax case with the coat of arms of the
Vaughan family who lived eight miles from Newark, the remains of a beaded
bag and a bone counter. A further hoard of 97 coins was found in 1961 (RCHM
1964, 74).
4.5
Creating a biography of destruction
As Riedlmayer (1995, n.p.) states ‘a people's identity is inextricably linked with the
visible symbols of its culture. Once those anchors are gone, the past, like the future, can
be recreated by the victors’. Therefore, understanding the destruction of a building and
associated material culture is of great importance in appreciating how new identities
were formed in the aftermath of war. As seen in previous chapters, the approaches used
must be contextualised to each particular site, as factors influencing the destruction of
the castle are often founded on local, rather than national, social discourse (Rakoczy
2007, 257). Only through exploring the individual biographies of each site is it possible
to establish the factors influencing the damage caused there.
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The contextualised study of the destruction of military institutions during the Civil War
requires a number of factors to be taken into consideration. These include:

Site history

The origin of material deposited

The instigators of destruction

The composition of material destroyed

The location of deposition
Each of these factors will be outlined below before a study of the context of deposition
and the instigators of destruction at each site. The origin and composition of the
material deposited at these sites is subject to the analysis of the material culture at each
site, and as a result will be discussed within the site chapters.
4.5.1 Site history
When evaluating the likelihood of recovering deposits directly related to the Civil Wars,
an appreciation of the site’s history is vital. Whilst many of the castles fortified during
the Civil War, such as Holt, Wrexham and Harlech, Gwynedd, had already witnessed a
period of abandonment for several decades prior to the conflict, other strongholds had
been occupied continuously. For example, Basing House was the home of the Marquis
of Winchester (Moorhouse 1970; 1971a), whilst Brampton Bryan was the residence of
Lady Brilliana Harley (Gaunt 1987, 79). The prior occupation of these sites adds
additional complexity to their interpretation as the artefacts recovered here are
associated as much with their pre-war history as their participation during the conflict.
The problems related to the destruction of castles have been highlighted by previous
analyses that demonstrate the motivations and methodology employed at such sites were
far from uniform (Rakoczy 2007; 2008b). For example, at Kenilworth the needs of an
individual dictated the areas of the castle to be dismantled and embellished to enhance
the reputation of its new owner, Colonel Joseph Hawkesworth (Rakoczy 2007, 204205). This is very different from the motivations of those responsible for the slighting of
Pontefract, as will be demonstrated below (see 4.6.3).
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In addition to identifying the length of occupation and the likelihood of recovering
deposits relating to the Civil War, the study of a site’s history is also important when
understanding the social discourse at that particular site. For example, where a site was
particularly resistant to attack, as at Basing House, the level of destruction tended to be
more severe, with the site being extensively pillaged and many of the occupants killed
(Carlton 1992, 177-179). The use of documentary evidence means, in addition to
recreating events at that particular site, the way in which a stronghold was viewed by
both defenders and attackers can also be analysed. Whilst the social discourse at some
sites such as Montgomery dictated that all buildings were demolished, including those
from the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries (Lloyd 1965, 63), at other sites, such as
Kenilworth and Tattershall, only partial demolition occurred (Johnson 2002, 174;
Rakoczy 2007, 41). As a result, an understanding of each site is necessary to fully
appreciate the social discourse surrounding destruction at each site.
4.5.2 The origin of deposited material
Excavated material needs to be analysed in order to establish whether it originated from
the garrison as opposed to other sources such as local middens. At Newcastle upon
Tyne, for example, the bastion ditch was filled from the mid-17th century onwards with
refuse from nearby dwellings rather than material from the castle (Ellison and Harbottle
1983; Nolan 1990). Therefore, it is vitally important to ascertain, as far as possible, that
the material being studied resulted from the consumption practices of the garrison as
opposed to opportunistic dumping by local inhabitants. In some instances this can be
achieved through the distance of the fortification from the nearest settlement, the remote
situation of Beeston makes it highly unlikely that the material excavated here derived
from any source other than the castle (Ellis 1993a). However, at others the situation is
more complex and as a result the identification of Civil War deposits may have to be
achieved on the basis of conjecture following a careful analysis of the site’s history.
4.5.3 The instigators of destruction
In order to establish the motivation for a site’s destruction it is essential to identify the
perpetrators behind this action. In some instances, as at Basing, those responsible for the
damage caused at a particular site are the same as those responsible for attacking it.
However, in many cases the length of time between the capture of a castle and its
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subsequent demolition means there is some doubt over who was actually responsible for
this act. Montgomery for example was seized in 1645 but it was only in 1649, after
considerable negotiation with the owner, that the castle was finally slighted (Lloyd
1965, 61). Such identification is not always possible, nevertheless it is still an important
consideration when analysing resultant assemblages.
4.5.4 The composition of deposited material
The analysis of any archaeological collection must assess how representative the
excavated material culture is of the original assemblage. Objects are subject to
preferential deposition but are also context dependent, with certain materials only
surviving under specific conditions. Environmental factors mean that organic material
only survives in rare circumstances and wooden bowls such as those found at St. Paulin-the-Bail well are rarities which do not usually survive in the ground unless there are
waterlogged conditions (Morris 2008, 40-42). Other objects, such as those made of
metal, may have been curated for recycling or for reuse, being more valuable than the
objects remaining (see above, 3.5.3). Although scraps of these vessels may remain,
many will be absent due to their comparative financial or social value. At other sites,
deposition may be influenced by other factors; at Basing House a number of ceramic
vessels were probably discarded as they had been severely damaged in a fire which
swept through the building after its surrender (Moorhouse 1970, 42). Excavation
methods also have an effect on the material culture analysed. For example, where areas
have been subject to partial excavation or preferential retrieval of material, such as the
absence of sieving to recover botanical remains, the artefacts recovered may be a biased
representation of the archaeological record.
4.5.5 The location of deposition
The location of deposited material is important as it may, to some extent, reflect the
location of consumption but the relationship between the two is complicated. Artefacts
may originate from multiple distant sources rather than a single nearby location and, in
addition, any material deposited in shallow features may be more susceptible to
disturbance. It is also important to understand the methodology employed in excavating
contexts, as deep features may have been excavated mechanically and excavation may
have been dictated by modern needs rather than archaeological research (Creighton
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2008, 82). Where questions of archaeological procedure have been satisfied however,
analysis of the location of deposition can reveal important insights into the preferential
discard of artefacts in particular areas.
4.6
Destruction at the selected sites
Having outlined the questions that need to be addressed before an assemblage can be
analysed, the social discourse of destruction at Eccleshall, Sandal and Pontefract will be
examined to evaluate the factors that may have governed the deposition of material at
each site.
4.6.1 Eccleshall
Of the three castles analysed within this study, Eccleshall is the least well documented.
A palace belonging to the Bishop of Lichfield, Robert Wright, the castle was subjected
to siege which lasted some ten weeks in 1643 until its surrender in early September4,
during the course of which the Bishop died (Wood 1692; Pemberton and Roots 1957,
147). The castle then served as a garrison for Parliament until the end of the war, largely
under the command of Sir William Brereton who described it on 24th October 1645 as
‘the only place of Safetie wherein those few goods which are remaining unplundered
and wherein any of my servants can in this Countie bee in any safetie’ (Pemberton and
Roots 1957, 345). Brereton himself evidently made known his intentions to inhabit the
former bishop’s palace after the conflict, as the Stafford Committee on the 15th July
1644 (Pemberton and Roots 1957, 147) voiced its preferment for the castle’s garrison to
be governed alongside the county as opposed to being a separate garrison under
Brereton's command which ‘would be inconvenient and prejudiciall to the garison of
Stafford and to the safety of the County’ (Pemberton and Roots 1957, 147, 152). It was
judged that Brereton’s ownership of the castle would reduce the power of the Earl of
Denbigh, mean fewer troops joined the garrison at Stafford and divert funds originally
intended for Stafford towards this rival garrison (Pemberton and Roots 1957, 152-3).
4
The length of siege, albeit short, is somewhat disputed, as Gaunt (1987, 152) states it began in early
August, which would support the seven weeks stated in the accounts of the Stafford Committee
(Pemberton and Roots 1957). However, Athenae Oxienses (Wood 1692) reports that the siege was
conducted during July to September and thus it would appear that ten weeks is more accurate.
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The fact that the primary cause of grievance is listed as ‘it much eclipseth the Earle of
Denbighs our Lord Generall his power’ is significant as it suggests the politics of rival
garrisons was the primary cause for the petition as opposed to a military concern
(Pemberton and Roots 1957, 153). Such petty rivalries were a problem for both sides;
the Royalist commander of Dudley castle, Colonel Thomas Leveson quarrelled so
frequently with Colonel Richard Bagot that they had to appeal to the king to settle their
dispute (Hutton 1999, 101).
Significantly the petition states that the garrison ‘is of that strength that fiftie souldiers
are a competent number to keepe it against a potent Army’ (Pemberton and Roots 1957,
153). Although there might be an ulterior motive to underestimating the garrison needed
for the castle, this statement belies the suggestion that the castle was 'badly damaged'
(Gaunt 1987, 152), and indeed the castle had succumbed to treachery rather than
bombardment (see below, 6.2). In any case, the Parliamentarians maintained the castle
for the rest of the war, transporting cannon to the castle in April 1646 and ordering the
repair of one of its turrets (Cooper 2008, 76; Pemberton and Roots 1957, 89).
As the garrison was not threatened again until the end of the conflict, it can be assumed
that the castle was largely intact when its future was subjected to further discussion.
Brereton still had a vested interest in the castle, as the first order issued by Parliament
on 4th August 1646 was ‘[t]hat the Works and Fortifications of Eccleshall-Castle be
dismantled: And that it be referred to the Committee of the Revenue, to continue Sir
William Brereton to dwell in the said Castle, if they shall think fitting’ (C.J. 1802a,
633). Brereton's many enemies, who had already denied him more resources for
Eccleshall, operated throughout the bureaucratic hierarchies to deny him the castle. His
own nephew, George Booth, charged him with corruption, accusing Brereton of seizing
Eccleshall for himself rather than on the behalf of Parliament (Morrill 1985, 320). This
culminated in a discussion over whether Brereton was allowed to keep the castle due to
military services rendered, which ‘led to a debate so heated that Sir John Clotworthy
moved that a ballot box be brought in so that the issue could be settled by a secret vote’
(Morrill 1985, 320-321). As a result Brereton was refused the castle and the next order,
issued on 2nd March 1647, was ‘[t]hat Eccleshall Castle be made untenable: And that it
be referred to the Committee in the Country, to see it done accordingly’ (C.J. 1802b,
102), a vote which was adhered to on 19th March 1647 (C.J. 1802b, 250).
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The rivalries between different Parliamentarian factions surrounding the destruction of
Eccleshall is significant, as it suggests that the impetus to demolish the building came
not from a need to prevent it being used again by the Royalists but as a way of denying
its future use by a man who had made himself unpopular amongst some of his peers.
The damage done to Eccleshall as a result of Parliamentarian slighting was so great that
the bishops of Lichfield declared it uninhabitable and it was extensively rebuilt in the
late 17th century (Sheale 1993, 15). As a result, the destruction of the castle was a
vindictive action not against its Royalist defenders but rather the Parliamentarian who
had occupied the castle and subsequently lost political favour.
4.6.2 Sandal
The surrender of Pontefract on 20th July 1645 led to a call for the surrender of Sandal on
the following day, but the besiegers replied ‘that the taking of Pontefract Castle cannot
take away our Allegeance, but shall contract it, and adde vigour to it’ (Whalley 1645a).
The siege intensified throughout August and September, with artillery from Hull being
installed by the besiegers in late September and producing a breach in the castle’s
defences (Pecke 1645). This action did not result in an attack, despite initial reports of
the siege and more recent analysis (Collings1645; Credland 1983, 260). Instead, an
eyewitness account records the surrender of the garrison whilst the Parliamentarians
were ‘drawn up to storme the breach’ on 30th September 1645 (Bates 1645). It would
appear that it was the threat of storm as opposed to starvation that led to the surrender,
as it was found that there were plentiful supplies of beef, corn and beer for the garrison
(Coe 1645). A decree was made the following April, along with several other
fortifications, to make the castle untenable as it was an 'inland garrison' (C.J. 1802a,
528).
The geographical location of slighted castles has been discussed by Rakoczy (2007, 5457), who suggests that despite previous theories (Thompson 1987, 154) there is no
particular pattern in castles being targeted due to their geographical location. The
documentary record suggests that the castle was already untenable at the end of the
siege, due to the breaches made by Parliamentarian garrison. This is confirmed by the
archaeological excavations conducted at the site, which revealed substantial damage,
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particularly on the motte where the Royalists were forced to excavate a trench in order
to pass through the site in relative safety (Mayes 1983, 46).
The state of the castle before, and certainly after, the conflict suggests that the demand
for demolition was superfluous to requirements. Unlike Eccleshall there were no
internal politics surrounding its demolition, neither were there any petitions such as
those at Pontefract (see below, 4.6.3). Nevertheless, the deposition at Sandal should be
considered as the result of bombardment and slighting, rather than slighting alone.
4.6.3 Pontefract
Pontefract was one of only two castles in Yorkshire to have escaped slighting at the end
of the first Civil War, the other being Scarborough (Binns 1986, 113). Instead a
Parliamentarian garrison was installed and, despite supposedly losing its military status
in February 1647, a grant of £360 was later made to the castle for the garrison’s relief
(Binns 1996, 194). Some deposition had already occurred prior to the end of the war, on
16th January 1645 the Royalist defenders, 'hearing they [Parliamentarian troops] would
plant them [cannon] against Pip' tower & betwixt that & the Round Tower where there
was a hallow place all the way downe to the well, the gentlemen & Souldyers fell all
upon Carrying of earth & Rubbish & so filled up the place in a little space' (Walker
1997, 12). However, the bulk of the destruction occurred in 1649 after it had been
recaptured by the Royalists and held by them during the second Civil War.
In terms of demolition, Pontefract is one of the most well-documented Civil War sites,
benefiting from the pleas for demolition from the aldermen of Pontefract and the West
Riding Jury and an account book listing the expenses and income resulting from the
destruction of the castle and subsequent sale of materials. Study of these accounts has
revealed the complexity of social relations between the military and civilian parties
responsible for the dismantling of the buildings and associated structures, as well as
providing some understanding of the processes by which artefacts entered the
archaeological record.
The castle was already a focus of ill feeling in Yorkshire, on 1st October 1648
Parliament imposed a £10,500 levy on the county to pay for the siege (Bennett 2000,
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4 Destruction
151). However, ill feeling itself cannot account for the destruction of the castle, for
example the townspeople of Scarborough suffered two prolonged sieges in both wars,
yet they gave no such plea for demolition and the castle continued in active use (Binns
1986, 116). As a result, the treatment of each castle was unique and based on equally
unique circumstances.
The two petitions requesting the demolition of the castle came from two related but
distinctly separate authorities. The first, forwarded on 19th March 1649 by the West
Riding Jury, was broadly focussed on the slighting of Pontefract, requesting that ‘order
may be given for the sale of the materials in it, to help to demolish it self:’ (HC 1649,
5). The mention of the slighting of Middleham castle within the same petition has been
interpreted as demonstrating the strategic rather than emotive motivations of the Jury
(Rakoczy 2007, 226-7). However, there are significant differences between this, which
has been seen as a strategic move on the part of the Jury, and the second petition, sent
with a letter written by the commander of the Parliamentarian army, Major Lambert,
dated 22nd March 1649. This petition, signed by the mayor of the town, Edward Fuller
on behalf of the aldermen of the town, mentions the destruction placed on the town, but
in a very different way. Whereas the former discusses the ‘tyranny and oppression’
caused by the Royalists, the latter discusses much more specifically the human and
economic impact of the sieges, with 200 houses destroyed, trade and farming disrupted
and the destruction of the church, in all it is estimated that the siege cost the town
£40,000. Only once is the Royalist threat mentioned in the context of destruction as
‘confused heapes [which] are lively and speaking Monuments of the Enemies cruelty
and yo’ Peticoners’ misery’ (cited in Holmes 1882a, 27-8).
The subsequent demolition of the castle has been well analysed in terms of the political
implications (Rakoczy 2007, 226-257; 2008b), but whilst being extremely informative
such approaches do not explore the social motivations of destruction. Pontefract is
notable not only for the extensive demolition but also the retention of profits by the
local populace, resulting in only £2 12s 10d being immediately returned to Parliament
(although they were due a further £145 11s 07d once outstanding debts had been
collected) (Roberts 2002a, 442).
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4 Destruction
The names of the trustees who were granted the overseeing of the destruction by the
West Riding Committee is significant; Captain John Ward, Edward Field (mayor),
Robert More, Robert Franke, Matthew Franke, Christopher Longe and John Ramsden.
Of these, all bar Captain Ward were aldermen of Pontefract, although Christopher
Longe may have only been an alderman from 1650 (Rakoczy 2007, 243). Furthermore,
two of these, Robert More and Robert Franke, had been aldermen in 1644 at the time of
the first siege. Of the thirteen aldermen at this time just three, including More and
Franke, had not entered the castle as part of the Royalist garrison, the final alderman,
Joshua or Joseph Wakefield5, probably being too infirm to participate on either side as
he was at least 70 when he died in 1650-1 (Holmes 1882a, 9-10). The rift which formed
at the beginning of the conflict amongst the aldermen is symptomatic of a wider rift
within the town, especially as members of the garrison had families within the town.
For example, Isobel Francke was the mother of Richard Oates, one of the Royalist
aldermen, and is the ‘I.O.’ whose initials appear on some of the 1649 tokens (Holmes
1882a, 12). As someone with Royalist sympathies, her story is symptomatic of many in
the town as her house may have been used to quarter Parliamentarians; Nathan Drake’s
diary mentions the firing of shots at her house by the castles garrison (Holmes 1882a,
12; Walker 1997, 19). Although personal advancement may have played a part in
slighting the castle, the emotional impact of the conflict also needs to be taken into
consideration. Those in charge of the demolition may have been puritans or had
Parliamentarian sympathies, but at least one member of the Royalist garrison from the
first and second sieges, John Oxley, participated in the dismantling of the castle
(Holmes 1887, 20; Rakoczy 2007, 241). The prominence of local inhabitants in the
slighting is also important as at other castles, such as Beeston, the evidence suggests
those responsible for demolition came from much further afield (Ellis 1993c, 213).
Therefore, the involvement of the local community in the destruction of their castle was
by no means a regular occurrence and suggests the events at Pontefract were of great
social significance. The act of dismantling the castle, whilst in part leading to a financial
gain for certain members of the community, also led to some collaboration between two
formerly opposing sides and even the gradual healing of some of the scars left by the
conflict.
5
Both forenames are used in Holmes (1882, 9).
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4 Destruction
The forging of a civic identity from a military conflict can be seen in the accounts
through the conflict between the Parliamentarian forces and the civic authorities,
particularly over the theft of timber for use as firewood (Rakoczy 2008b, 268), one
entry giving £1 to ‘six carpenters for loading timber that was secured from burning by
the soldiers and surveying the rest of the timber’ (Fox 1987, 152) and a further 18s
being ‘paid for coals to several guards to secure the timber from burning’ (Fox 1987,
152). Although such payments can be seen as the civic authority defending their ‘new
“investment”’ (Rakoczy 2007, 234), it can also be seen as evidence of the unity of the
civic authority against their erstwhile allies, the castle forming a new focus around
which the town could forge a new identity.
Within this new identity, it is significant that the very name of the castle was altered.
From medieval times it had been referred to as Pomfret, and is mentioned as such in
Shakespeare’s Richard III as:
‘Pomfret, Pomfret! O thou bloody prison,
Fatal and ominous to noble peers!
Within the guilty closure of thy walls
Richard the second here was hack'd to death’
(Richard III Act 3 Scene 3)
As this extract demonstrates, the name Pomfret was already associated with bloodshed
and a symbol for the struggle for the crown, Edward V’s uncle and half-brother being
executed there in 1483 when Richard III seized the throne. Pomfret was referred to in
the Civil War (Anon 1642c), however within the Booke of Entries of the Pontefract
Corporation, ‘it may be as well to state that the debased name, Pomfret, does not once
occur in this authentic record’ (Holmes 1882a, 12). From this it would appear that there
was a consensus amongst the population to erase the very memory of the castle, just as
the castle itself was dismantled so too was the name with all of its bloody and inglorious
connotations.
Although the order to dismantle Pontefract was carried out with more zeal than at other
sites, probably due to a combination of profit-seeking and genuine hatred of the castle,
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4 Destruction
the actual process of dismantlement may have been more complex than the accounts
suggest. Work started on the 5th April 1649, the day after the order was issued by the
West Riding Jury to begin demolition (Rakoczy 2007, 228), but the date it finished is
uncertain. Robert Moore paid ten weeks of wages to labourers and workmen and the
final accounts for payments were received on 7th May 1649. However, a list of debts
were still outstanding when the final accounts were signed on 11th April 1651 and work
was still being conducted as late as 16th August 1654, when John Evelyn noted that
Pontefract castle ‘was now demolishing by the Rebells’ (de Beer 1959, 348). In 1656,
the corporation ordered that the widow of Samuel Childe should be made to pay the £60
9s 9d still owed for wood, along with an order ‘that the arrears of the Assessmt for
p’videing of Bucketts and ropes, &c., be forethewith collected and paid to Richard Lile
and Willm Farrey to be imploied...for p’videing of more buckets, ropes, and
neccessaries’ (Holmes 1882a, 24). Although this may be for activities unrelated to the
castle, the combination of these two actions within the same order suggests that the
buckets and other materials were required for activities relating to the castle. This is
understandable given the nature of the accounts which cover the most profitable
materials from the castle, namely the lead, timber and glass. All such materials can be
retrieved from the roof and windows of various buildings which would take a much
shorter time than the recovery of masonry, which is not mentioned in the accounts.
Therefore, although the materials most suitable for resale may be salvaged quickly and
as a result appear in the accounts at an earlier date, the removal of masonry may take
much longer, thus explaining why activities on the castle continued long after the
accounts had been finalised. The fall of several towers, which maimed at least one
workman (Fox 1987, 151-2; Rakoczy 2007, 238-9), does not disprove this as these may
have only been partial collapses and many towers did not fall in this manner.
Amongst the towers to fall was the Constable Tower, as evidenced by £2 14s being
‘paid for baring of timber from under the fall of [the] Constable Tower’. As this is the
area from which the majority of material culture was retrieved this is of great
importance, as it either suggests that the cellars of the Tower were backfilled prior to the
collapse of the Tower or that the material from the Tower collapse was thoroughly
removed and the area then backfilled. The lack of masonry in the lower deposits of the
Tower suggests that the former is more likely, although the upper deposits are more
mixed (see below, 8.4.2.1).
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4 Destruction
The explicit instruction to fill the depressions of the castle was complied with, as
evidenced by the demolition accounts in which £4 10s was ‘paid for filling up the graft
at the upper Drawbridge and the chapel walls pulling down’ (Fox 1987, 151) and £1 7s
4d ‘for filling up the graft at the low Drawbridge, and pulling down part of the screen
close by the Constable Tower’ (Fox 1987, 151). However, such a process was by no
means straightforward, as demonstrated by several instances of towers falling as
opposed to being demolished in a controlled manner. As a result, the accounts of
Pontefract demonstrate that the demolition of a castle was quite complex and could take
a considerable length of time to complete. The study of the politics and economics of
demolition can illuminate the social networks formulated and exploited throughout the
demolition process (Rakoczy 2007; 2008b); however, it is only when the psychological
impact of the siege is fully understood that the social impact and implications of the
demolition can be understood.
4.7
Conclusion
Analysis of each site demonstrates the unique nature of destruction, as the motivations
for the slighting of the three castles were very different. The great complexity of
destruction means it is impossible to examine assemblages resulting from the
inhabitation of buildings during the Civil Wars without taking into account the
processes by which they entered the ground. The differing social discourse which
occurred during destruction means that even if assemblages appear to be very similar, in
reality they are very different due to the motivations which led to their discard. Only
when such motivations are explored thoroughly is it possible to analyse the resulting
material culture not just as an integral part of the consumption of food and drink but
also as an integral part of the social discourse surrounding destruction.
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5 Methodology
5
5.1
Methodology
Introduction
An approach focussed on the social discourse at Civil War sites requires a detailed
methodology with a holistic approach to material culture. This approach should include
the identification of appropriate sites, the analysis of artefacts related to consumption
from those sites, and a subsequent comparison with other sites. Although this approach
should be broadly universal to all case studies, where necessary it should be adapted to
suit particular sites due to their own peculiarities.
5.2
Castle Selection
This thesis relies on the selection of case studies with substantial deposits of material
culture relating to the Civil War. As a result, all castles involved in the conflict need to
be identified along with the level of archaeological excavation conducted at each of
them. All known Civil War sites were listed using Gaunt’s Cromwellian Gazetteer of
the English Civil War (1987) alongside additional information such as the type of site
(for example castle, stately home, town), when it was occupied and by whom. A review
was then conducted of all published literature relating to castle excavations (appendix
1). Although an area of great potential (Creighton 2008, 84), unpublished excavations or
Ministry of Works clearances at castles such as Helmsley, Yorkshire were not covered
in this survey as sufficient sites had already been identified without this time consuming
process. The review resulted in an evaluation of Civil War castle sites which were
subsequently categorised as high, medium or low priority sites based on the following
criteria:
1) High potential sites. Extensive excavations which revealed a significant area of
the site and produced a large amount of archaeological material. Sites include
Basing House (Peers 1909; Moorhouse 1970: 1971a; Allen and Anderson 1999),
Montgomery (Lewis 1968; Knight 1992; Knight 1993; Knight 1994) and Dudley
(Ratkai 1985: 1987; Moffet 1992; Gaimster et al. 1996; Thomas 2005).
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5 Methodology
2) Medium potential sites. Sites with a moderate level of archaeological
investigation or extensive excavations with little documentation and/or a high
risk of contamination. Sites include Newark (Barley and Waters 1956; RCHME
1964; Courtney 1973; Drage 1987; Kinsley 1988; Holyoak 1997; Samuels 1998;
Jennings 2003), Nottingham (Drage 1978: 1989) and Sheffield (Armstrong
1935).
3) Low potential sites. Sites with little or no archaeological investigation. This was
the largest category and included sites such as Banbury (Fasham 1973: 1983;
Rodwell 1976), Corfe (Chambers 1950; Grace and Papworth 1997; RCHME
1960) and Raglan (Kenyon 1982a: 1982b).
A feasibility study of each identified high priority castle was subsequently conducted
based on geographical location, date of excavation and accessibility to archives. On this
basis three sites were chosen; Pontefract and Sandal in Yorkshire and Eccleshall in
Staffordshire. Visits to the relevant museum service were then conducted to examine the
ceramic and glass assemblages from each castle.
5.3
Recording of ceramic vessels
It is essential to maintain the same methodology across all sites to ensure uniformity
and ease of comparison (Orton 2000, 75). As a result all three sites were assessed or, in
the case of published excavations, reassessed using identical criteria for each site. These
criteria are listed here and discussed in detail below.

Estimated number of vessels (ENV)

Number of sherds

Weight

Location of vessel

Form

Fabric

Glaze colour and glossiness

Number of handles

Completeness
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5 Methodology

Sooting

Kiln notes

Decoration
Data was entered directly into a separate spreadsheet for each site and these have been
included within the appendices in electronic form (see appendices 2, 3 and 4).
5.3.1 Estimated number of vessels (ENV)
A meaningful study into artefact consumption must rely on an accurate number of
vessels (Orton 1993, 177). As a single vessel can be represented by multiple sherds
within the archaeological record, the sherd count alone cannot give an accurate
representation of an assemblage; therefore, the number of sherds recovered from each
site is less important than how many vessels these represented (Orton et al. 1993, 1619). However, due to the fragmentary nature of the archaeological record the number of
vessels at a given site will always be a subjective estimate. A minimum number of
vessels, derived from a basic rim or base count, can produce wide variability between
sites and vessel types (Orton et al. 1993, 169), but other methodologies also have their
limitations. For example, estimated vessel equivalents (eves) rely on key areas of the
ceramic such as rims and bases to be present to the detriment of other fragments such as
body sherds. In addition, eves are still only an estimate of the total number of vessels
present as it is usually not possible to identify all the sherds of the same vessel (Orton
1993, 173), and they are also heavily dependent on context due to the individual nature
of each deposit. As a result eves cannot be used for a direct comparison between sites
without some processing (Baxter and Cool 1995, 90).
However, the sites studied produced moderately complete assemblages which are more
representative of the original composition of artefacts than most excavated sites (Orton
et al. 1993, 169). As the deposits consisted of predominately whole contexts with a
resultant high level of joining sherds, an approach could be adopted which estimated the
number of vessels through the similarity of fabric and glaze. Each group of sherds, or
‘sherd family’, could then be estimated as a single vessel (Baxter and Cool 1995, 91).
Although moderately subjective, the unique nature of many vessels justified this
approach and several previously unmatched sherds were joined using this method.
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5 Methodology
Each sherd group was assigned a unique identification number for each site, preceded
by the initials RMCA which was retained with the sherds after analysis. RMCA has
been substituted by a three or four letter site identification within this thesis: ECC for
Eccleshall, SAND for Sandal and PONT for Pontefract. Body sherds and handles which
could not be identified were given a single identification number and an estimation of
vessels given.
5.3.2 Number of sherds
The number of sherds present in each sherd group were listed along with how many
were joining and non-joining.
5.3.3 Weight
All sherds were weighed on scales accurate to one gram. Sherds were weighed both
collectively and individually to facilitate movement between entries where necessary.
5.3.4 Area and location
The area and, where applicable, context of all sherds within each sherd group were
noted. Both area and context were defined by the original excavations and thus varied
from site to site. These differences are explained briefly below.
5.3.4.1 Eccleshall Castle
As the fill of the moat at Eccleshall was deemed by excavators to be a single,
homogenous context, the excavation was separated into areas which were subsequently
excavated by spit, with sherds from each spit being assigned an individual bag number.
Therefore, vessels were initially analysed by bag number which were then linked to the
area of excavation and the spit from which the sherd originated from, as listed in
appendix 5. As it is highly likely material originated from a single event horizon, spits
were omitted from the final analysis and sherds were analysed by area alone. A list of
areas along with their generalised location is shown in table 5.1 (see also fig. 6.1).
5.3.4.2 Sandal Castle
Sandal was originally excavated by context but these were amalgamated as part of the
post-excavation process with all finds being assigned an area code, year of excavation
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5 Methodology
and phase of occupation (P. Judkins pers. comm.). The subsequent loss of the paper
archive for the site has led to some confusion in artefact location, particularly as the
same code was sometimes used for different areas excavated in different years. For
example ‘F’ could refer to the seal over the bakehouse if excavated in 1965, but when
used in 1967 probably refers to area F on the motte, an area subsequently assigned as
MF. Conflicts were resolved as far as possible using a list of area codes and the
published site plans (Mayes 1983; Moorhouse 1983a 205-206), although as some area
codes were omitted from both sources this was not always possible. The pottery codes
used for this study, alongside their original codes and their location, appear in table 5.2
(see also fig. 7.1). Further conflicts are discussed within the appropriate chapter but it
should be noted that, as far as possible, sherds with different codes were analysed
separately even when they appeared to originate from the same area. For example,
sherds marked L/K and SCL/K probably originated from the courtyard between the
kitchen and larder but remained separate within initial analysis to prevent confusion if
this is proved not to be the case. Four codes, A, AKX, BRT and JA were impossible to
identify whilst a further four codes, M, MA, MGC and MN cannot be exactly located
although the ‘M’ prefix suggests they are in the vicinity of the motte.
5.3.4.3 Pontefract Castle
The excavations at Pontefract Castle employed single context recording, with which all
pottery sherds were marked. These contexts were adopted for use in this study alongside
the area each context originated from (see table 5.3).
5.3.5 Form
Identification of vessel form is important when understanding their role within social
discourse. However, vessels are imbedded within the habitus in which they are
consumed and as a result the modern interpretation of vessels may differ from their past
use (Cumberpatch 1997, 128). For example, during the 17th century a dish could be
variously seen as a saucer, salad dish, basin, broth dish, platter, trencher or middling
dish (Holme 1905, 4 cited in Beaudry et al. 1983, 26), but such distinctions are
impossible to make within the archaeological record. In addition, multiple terms such as
tyg, drinking cup, tankard and mug may be used as subcategories for the generic
category of drinking vessel or ‘pot’. Although these terms can be used for slightly
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5 Methodology
different forms, they are often used interchangeably within contemporary and modern
literature. The impossibility of associating historical terms with individual artefacts
meant this study adopted broad vessel categories. These categories were based on
established medieval typologies (MPRG 1998), with some exceptions in deference to
contemporary forms, for example pancheon was used in preference to concave-sided or
flared bowls (MPRG 1998, 5.1.3 and 5.1.4). The primary categories used within
analysis were:

Drinking Vessels. These encompass a number of terms used elsewhere,
including cup, tyg, drinking pot and mug (e.g. Beaudry et al. 1983, 30).

Medium fine jars. These are differentiated from larger storage jars through both
their smaller size and fabric, having been manufactured from refined fabrics
such as yellow-ware or blackware.

Fine handled jars. Although often referred to as chamberpots, the variety and
form of such vessels adds credence to the suggestion that the term chamberpot is
too specific (Cumberpatch 2002, 221). In addition, contemporary depictions
show a form not dissimilar to that of the modern form but with marked
differences to many archaeological examples, some of which would have been
somewhat impractical due to their size and shape. As a result, fine handled jar
has been adopted for the purposes of this study.

Storage jars. These are large vessels constructed of coarseware fabrics, many
with handles. They are usually substantially larger than other jar forms.

Storage cisterns. Used for the storage of liquids, these are of a similar form to
storage jars but can be differentiated through the presence of a spigot hole near
the base of the vessel. As a distinction between a jar and cistern can only be
achieved through the presence of a significant section of the lower portion of the
vessel, there are a significant number of vessels assigned as storage jar/cistern.
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5 Methodology

Small storage vessels. These are otherwise known as drug jars or cylindrical
jars (MPRG 1998, 4.1.3). Some literature refer to these as albarellos 6 (e.g.
Cumberpatch 2002, 221), but this term specifically refers to a form of drug jar
often imported from the Mediterranean (Griffenhagen and Bogard 1999, 5) and
as a result is not employed within this thesis. Although associated with
ointments and medical uses, they may also have been used for storing small
amounts of condiments such as mustard (Moorhouse 1978, 7).

Jugs. Usually upright or sometimes globular vessels with a handle and spout
used for the transportation and pouring of liquids.

Costrels. Distinctive small flasks with narrow necks and lug holes on either side
for the transportation of liquids, these are often identified through the presence
of neck or lug hole fragments. However, other sherds could be tentatively
identified due to the lack of glaze and prominent narrow throwing rings on the
interior of body sherds.

Flasks. This is used in reference to specific imported forms such as Martincamp
flasks and denote small vessels used in the serving and transportation of liquids.

Bowls/Pancheons. These refer to deep, steeply sided vessels used for food
preparation, often referred to in the production of dairy products such as cheese.
The two terms are differentiated based on the gradient of the sides but as this
division can lead to extensive overlap, bowl/pancheon is employed within this
analysis.

Dishes. Shallow, wide vessels used for the serving of food. These were rare
items at all three sites and were usually manufactured from red slipware.
6
Strictly speaking, the plural of albarello is albarelli but albarellos is employed in the majority of English
ceramic studies.
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5 Methodology

Pipkins. Used for the cooking of food, pipkins usually possess three short feet at
their base leading to their identification as tripod pipkins. Other cooking
vessels identified were a skillet and medieval forms such as a dripping pan and
cooking jars, differentiated from other jars by their globular base and evidence
of sooting.

Other terms relate to the specific function of an item, such as candlestick and
salt.
Illustrated examples of the principal ceramic forms can be found in fig. 5.1.
5.3.5.1 Sub-categories
The categorisation of objects is essentially a subjective process, a cup and a mug only
being seen as essentially separate objects due to our own perceptions (Beaudry et al.
1983, 19). Therefore, rather than relying on complex typologies of vessels it is
preferable to produce broad categories referring to generalised vessel use. Such
categories need to be narrow enough for a meaningful comparison, as although the use
of hollowware and flatware may avoid being overly specific (Celoria and Kelly 1973
cited in Beaudry et al. 1983, 20), they also heavily restrict function analysis. As a result,
nine categories were created which included all identified vessel forms. These
categories are similar to those used by Cumberpatch (2002, 221, table 22,) but do vary
slightly.

Drinking vessels. Includes: drinking vessels

Fine storage vessels. Includes: fine handled jars, fine medium jars
The inclusion of all medium jars regardless of the presence of handles
recognises their similarity of form but also accommodates problems of
identification, as a handled jar requires the presence of a handle or handle scar
which may not be obvious or present on incomplete examples.
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5 Methodology

Small storage vessels. Includes: small storage vessels

Large storage vessels. Includes: heavy duty storage jars, heavy duty cisterns,
heavy duty storage vessels
Although cisterns and jars are separated through the presence of a spigot hole on
cisterns, the necessity for this to be present to identify such a vessel means a
large number of incomplete vessels are ambiguous. As liquids could also be
stored in jars if necessary the creation of a single category overcomes problems
of identification.

Liquid transportation. Includes: jugs, costrels
The two vessel forms included within this category perform different social roles
despite sharing a similar physical function, that of carrying liquids. Due to their
size jugs are more suited to the communal consumption of liquids whereas
costrels are more suited to individual consumption. As a result, although initial
analysis included these two vessels within the same category comparisons of the
two types are made within the text.
 Food preparation vessels Includes: bowls/pancheons
 Food serving vessels. Includes: dishes and plates
 Cooking vessels. Includes: tripod cooking vessels, skillets
This category refers to vessels which were intended to be used for cooking, such
as tripod cooking vessels and skillets. Other vessels which were adapted for
cooking, such as jug SAND1710, are discussed separately.

Other Includes: candlestick, salt
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5 Methodology
A small number of vessels performed a specific purpose and could not be
categorised, for example candlesticks and salts. As a result these were placed
within a separate category and are discussed individually.
5.3.6 Fabric
Compared to medieval ceramics, pottery produced between 1600 and 1650 is often
overlooked as it falls between medieval studies terminating at 1600 (e.g. McCarthy and
Brooks 1988) and studies of post-medieval ceramics often commencing after 1650 (e.g.
Weatherill 1971; Draper 1984). Other studies of this period concentrate on imports such
as Rhenish stonewares and colourful wares such as tin glazed earthenware rather than
more mundane fabrics such as blackware or yellow ware (e.g. Gaimster 1994). As a
result wares commonly found on sites outside the South-East receive less attention,
although there are rare exceptions (e.g. Barker 1985; 1986b; Cumberpatch 2003; Boyle
2006; Vaughan 2007).
As opposed to earlier periods, post-medieval fabrics are often identified on the basis of
glaze rather than fabric, for example blackwares, yellow wares and red wares. Although
it is possible to distinguish individual fabrics chemically, the possibility for ceramic
petrography is reduced as fabrics are heavily refined (Vince 2001, 108-109). In
addition, whilst the study of fabrics provides some information about their movement
around the country (e.g. Moorhouse 1983b) the mobility of troops during this period
means interpretation would be extremely complex if not impossible, as the person who
consumed the vessel may be completely unrelated to the person who transported it to
the site. As a result, this study focussed on the phenomenological appearance of vessels
rather than their place of origin (Cumberpatch 1997, 129), and ceramics were assigned
to broad categories such as blackware and yellow ware, with sub-categories used to aid
cross-matching rather than draw conclusions concerning production sites. All fabrics
were examined by hand-lens at 10x magnification.
The classification of fabrics at Pontefract and Sandal broadly follows that used in the
original study of the pottery from Pontefract (Cumberpatch 2002) although some subtypes were amalgamated after sherds from different types were found to join. At
Eccleshall medieval fabrics of largely complete vessels were defined using Medieval
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Pottery in Staffordshire, AD800-1600 (Ford 1995). The predominant fabrics at all three
sites are discussed below, with a full description of all fabrics and sub-fabrics appearing
in appendices 6 and 7. A list of abbreviations used for ceramic fabrics can be found in
table 5.4.
5.3.6.1 Principal Fabric types
5.3.6.1.1 Cistercian ware (Cw)
Produced from the mid-15th century onwards, Cistercian ware is characterised by a hard,
semi-vitrified fabric which varies in colour from purple to dark orange-red. Vessels are
usually covered by a black or dark brown glaze which is often patchy and poorly-fired
to produce a semi-metallic spotted finish and some are subsequently embellished by the
application of clay strips or pads (Boyle 2006, 3). Cistercian ware was widely produced
in the midlands and north of England (Barker 1986a, 53), with substantial kilns situated
near to Pontefract and Sandal at Potovens, Wrenthorpe (Brears 1967; Bartlett 1971;
Moorhouse and Roberts 1992). In the midlands, kiln sites include Ticknall, Derbyshire
(Boyle 2002-2003; Spavold and Brown 2005; Boyle and Rowlandson 2006-2008),
Wednesbury, West Midlands, Chilvers Coton, Warwickshire and Burslem and Hanley,
Staffordshire (Barker 1986a, 53; Boothroyd and Courtney 2004)7. The dominant form is
drinking vessels characterised by globular forms with wide, flaring rims or tall, upright
vessels (Boyle 2006, 6).
Petrographic and glaze analysis of fabrics from the west midlands showed vessels from
a number of sites were indistinguishable, although inductively-coupled plasma
spectrometry (ICPS) reveals key differences (Hurst and Wright 2011, 59). As
differences between fabrics were only visible chemically, fabric by itself is
demonstrably less important than phenomenological aspects when considering its role
in social discourse.
7
For a general overview of sites in the west midlands see Hurst and Wright 2011, 55
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5 Methodology
5.3.6.1.2 Blackware (Bw)
Produced from the late 16th century onwards, blackwares are characterised by
predominantly well-fired orange-red fabrics with a rich, glossy dark brown to black
glaze that is of a higher quality than the Cistercian wares which preceded them (Brears
1971a, 37). Blackwares were produced across the country including Hanley and
Burslem, Staffordshire (Barker 1986b, 60) and many of the forms and fabrics at Sandal
and Pontefract were replicated by examples recovered from the nearby kilns at
Wrenthorpe (Moorhouse and Roberts 2002). Drinking vessels predominate and are
characterised by straight-sided, flaring vessels as well as vessels with slightly rounded
sides (Barker 1986b, 58), although other forms such as fine handled jars and jugs are
also represented.
As blackwares are essentially developed Cistercian wares (Boyle 2006, 9) there is
difficulty in assigning some sherds to either category. Where there was doubt over the
identification sherds were assigned as Cistercian or blackwares (Cw/Bw). Costrels in
particular are difficult to categorise due to their similarity in fabric and form
(Cumberpatch 2002, 186; Moorhouse and Slowikowski 1992, 95).
5.3.6.1.3 Transitional Cistercian/blackware (Trans Cw/Bw)
A number of drinking vessels from both Sandal and Pontefract had characteristics
which could be identified as transitional between Cistercian ware and black wares. Such
features included vessels which had a metallic glaze, were poorly fired or had a
distinctive upright form (e.g. PONT1). These wares are found on production sites dating
from the end of the 16th to the early 17th century and thus would have been archaic by
the beginning of the Civil War.
5.3.6.1.4 Yellow ware (Yw)
Yellow wares were introduced alongside Cistercian wares and continued to be produced
throughout the 17th century. They consist of a pale, fine fabric usually, but not
universally, covered with a white or pale slip and a clear glaze (Brears 1971a, 32). Early
forms coinciding with Cistercian ware are thought to be distinguished from later forms
by a lack of slip (Moorhouse and Slowikowski 1992, 95; Cumberpatch 1996, 63).
However, early and late yellow wares are difficult to distinguish due to a significant
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overlap between wares and, with the exception of occasional forms such as salts found
at Sandal castle, most vessels were produced throughout both centuries. As a result
yellow wares were treated as a single entity in this study. Main forms include small
storage vessels, fine handled jars and bowl/pancheons.
5.3.6.1.5 Brown-glazed coarseware (BGCw)
Also referred to as BERTH (brown glazed earthenware, see Young and Vince 2005,
231-2), brown-glazed coarseware was produced alongside blackwares and were widely
produced from the late 16th century onwards (Cumberpatch 1996, 64). Coarsewares are
usually demarcated by an oxidised red-orange fabric with moderate inclusions, although
as the fabric is essentially a blackware clay with a greater amount of temper there is
some overlap in ware types. The glaze is often a mid to dark brown and the forms
produced are generally larger than blackwares, including jugs, bowl/puncheons and
heavy duty storage vessels.
5.3.6.1.6 Redware and slipware (Rw, Slip)
Redwares are distinguished by an oxidised red fabric with a clear glaze (Cumberpatch
2003). Some vessels are also decorated with a yellow slip, in which case they are
referred to as slipwares (Slip). Slipware originated in North Europe from where it was
imported until the late 16th century, when it began to be produced at sites across
England, including South Yorkshire (Barker 1993, 8; Crossley 1990, 251; Cumberpatch
1996, 65). Other common types of slipware include Metropolitan slipware, produced in
Essex (Davey and Walker 2009) and Staffordshire slipware which began to be produced
in Burslem and Hanley during the 1640s (Barker 1993, 11, 14). Although visually
similar, recent studies have demonstrated it is possible to separate slipwares on the basis
of both petrographic and chemical study (White 2012). Common forms include
bowl/pancheons, dishes and plates.
5.3.6.1.7 Tin-glazed earthenwares (TGE)
Tin-glazed earthenware, characterised by a pale or white body with a thick white glaze,
was produced in England from the end of the 16th century, although many vessels were
imported from the Netherlands (Gaimster 1994, 296). The study of tin glazes is highly
specialised (Watkins 1987, 124; Cumberpatch 2002, 193), and as it is highly unlikely
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consumers would have differentiated between the majority of English and Dutch
earthenwares their origin is of little relevance to this study. Some Mediterranean tinglazed wares, such as Spanish lustreware and maiolica, can be differentiated more
easily, but these fabrics were not present at the selected sites.
5.3.6.1.8 Rhenish stoneware
From the late medieval period, stoneware imports from the Rhine valley are a noticeable
feature of many ports and further inland, although they are absent from both Eccleshall
and Sandal. The most common fabric at mid-17th-century sites is Frechen, characterised
by a hard, grey purple fabric with a mottled brown salt glaze. This is often present in the
form of Baartman flasks, distinguished by bearded face masks applied to the neck and a
decorative roundel on the belly (Gaimster 1997, 94). The bulbous shape of these and
other Dutch vessels, including Malling jugs, is mirrored by English vessels such as the
manganese mottled vessels found at both Sandal and Pontefract (SAND151 and
PONT1480, 1481 and 1482). A fragment of Westerwald from Pontefract is unusual, as
this fabric was a recent introduction during the mid-17th century and is absent from
other Civil War sites such as Basing House (Gaimster 1997, 94).
5.3.7 Glaze colour and glossiness
Previous studies have noted the importance of colour in social interactions with pottery,
particularly in the post-medieval period (Cumberpatch 1997, 126-128: 2002, 222;
Yentsch 1991). Therefore, the colour of vessels was recorded in numerical form to
allow for variance in colour, for example light brown as opposed to dark brown (see
table 5.5). The level of inclusions within the glaze, such as yellow speckles, were also
noted on a scale ranging from 0 (no inclusions) to 3 (high density of inclusions) (see
table 5.6). In addition, the glaze finish is sometimes important in distinguishing between
different fabric types, in particular Cistercian ware and blackware, the former often
being over-fired which results in a metallic finish (Boyle 2006, 3). As a result the
glossiness of the glaze was recorded on a scale ranging from 0 (completely glossy) to 4
(completely metallic) (see table 5.7). Further descriptions for each vessel provided extra
details on vessels where required.
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5.3.8 Number of handles
Multi-handled vessels have been suggested to be of social importance in communal
drinking as they facilitate the easy passage of a vessel around a group, although due to
the size of vessels this may have been more symbolic than functional (Barker pers.
comm. in Cumberpatch 2003, 4; Boyle 2006, 233). As result, if handles were present,
either in their entirety or as handle stumps, these were noted along with how many may
have been present when the vessel was complete, although an exact count was not
always possible. In addition the form of the handle, usually a rod in the case of drinking
vessels or a strap in the case of large heavy duty storage vessels, was noted along with
any distinguishing features. This included the “Wrenthorpe mark”, a triple finger
impression made at the base of a significant number of sherds and identified with a
production site at nearby Wrenthorpe (Brears 1971b, 20-22; Moorhouse and
Slowikowski 1992, 97). This mark was evident on yellow wares, blackwares and
transitional Cistercian/blackwares.
5.3.9 Percentage of vessel present
As the assemblages were largely homogenous, originated from predominantly primary
deposits, and were subject to extensive cross-matching, it was possible to gauge the
approximate percentage of the vessels represented. An estimation of the completeness
of the three main elements of the pot, namely the rim, base and body, was recorded
using a separate percentage for each element. A rim chart was used to obtain the
proportions of the rim and base present with an approximation given for the proportion
of body sherds.
As stated above (see 5.3.1), a vessel may have been identified through similarity of
sherds rather than physical joins. Where this was the case sherds were added together to
achieve a single percentage for the vessel; for example two non-joining sherds
representing 17% and 34% of a vessel respectively would form 51% of the entire vessel.
5.3.10 Sooting
Sooting is a useful indication of a vessel being heated over a fire for purposes including
(but not confined to) cooking, although it has been suggested that, as opposed to soot,
the blackened residue on vessels instead represents the leaching of food residue due to
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repeated exposure to heat (J. Hudson pers. comm.). However, it is often underrepresented in archaeological assemblages due to post-excavation processes such as
washing (Moorhouse 1983b, 108; Orton et al. 1993, 222). Any evidence of sooting,
food residue and other evidence of heat exposure was noted for all vessels. Where
sooting was in unusual places such as on the breaks of sherds this was noted as although
this may be related to post-depositional practices or exposure to fire during the slighting
of the castle, and medieval recipes sometimes required sherds for the mixing and
heating of compounds (Moorhouse 1978, 12).
5.3.11 Production notes
The production of 17th-century pottery has been discussed elsewhere (e.g. Brears 1971a)
and identification of manufacturing techniques is not of primary importance to this
study. However, a number of vessels had manufacturing defects which could have
influenced social discourse, including stacking marks from placement within the kiln,
distorted handles and overfired vessels (e.g. PONT698, SAND1084, and SAND1065).
Therefore, all distinctive marks resulting from methods of production were noted.
5.3.12 Decoration
Decoration in this context refers to the application of other decorative motifs in addition
to the primary glaze, although the glaze of a vessel can also be considered as decoration
as it alters the physical properties of fired pottery to accommodate social values (e.g.
Yentsch 1991, 193-5). It is also an obvious method of individualising vessels as well as
conveying specific social messages (e.g. Goldthwaite 1989). Decorative methods
included applying clay to a vessel in the case of Cistercian ware (e.g. ECC192),
applying a different coloured slip to slipware vessels (e.g. PONT788) or painting on a
vessel in the case of porcelain and tin-glazed ware (e.g. ECC201). All decoration,
including incised lines, slipped decoration and painting was recorded and selected for
photography and illustration where appropriate.
5.3.13 Photography and illustration
Vessels noted for their largely complete profile or particular features such as decoration
were recorded through photography and illustration, with some vessels selected for
illustration or photographic record only. All illustrations were originally made at 1:1
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scale and, unless otherwise stated, reduced to 1:2 for inclusion within volume two the
thesis. All illustrated vessels discussed within the text are italicised for identification.
5.4
Additional analysis of ceramic material
Having recorded the details of every sherd from each site further analysis was required
to profile the ceramic assemblage, including cross-matching sherds, fragmentation
analysis and the analysis of vessels by form.
5.4.1 Cross-matching sherds
Ideally all sherds with the same fabric should be cross-matched to ensure that an exact
number of vessels can be attained. All three assemblages had already been checked for
joining sherds during the original post-excavation process and these were rechecked
during analysis. Every sherd from Eccleshall castle was checked due to the size of the
assemblage but at Sandal and Pontefract due to time constraints only partial checking
was conducted concentrating primarily on blackwares and imported wares, with the
addition of small storage vessels at Sandal. Matching sherds were combined within the
same vessel number. Very few additional matches were found, indicating that the initial
checking was extremely thorough and a more comprehensive survey is unlikely to have
identified many more matches.
In addition to ensuring an accurate vessel count, the distribution of pottery across the
site has been described as providing ‘a unique source of information for interpreting
stratigraphy, relationships and the uses of areas or buildings’ (Moorhouse and
Slowikowski 1987, 161; see also Moorhouse 1986, 86). Contexts with multiple crossmatching sherds indicate deposits with a more homogenous origin than those with few
or no cross-matching sherds, where the origin for each deposit is likely to be separate.
Several methods have been suggested for representing cross-context joins (e.g. Brown
1985; Young 2008, 33), but a plotted distribution of sherds facilitates the easy
identification of areas with large numbers of cross-joins, although it does not convey the
exact number of sherds joining from each context. Due to the lack of contextual
information at Eccleshall and Sandal this was restricted to a distribution in plan only. At
Pontefract a plan of distribution was not necessary as only one vessel joined across the
site, but the depth of deposits within the Constable Tower facilitated a distribution in
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section. The information gained by such plotting needs to be evaluated carefully; sherds
joining from adjacent contexts for example may be a result of excavation strategy or
taphonomic process rather than depositional practice (Davey 1988, 6).
The plotting of cross-matching sherds enabled the identification of separate zones of
consumption at each site. As a result vessels could be analysed on the basis of areas in
which related vessels were consumed rather than by context, feature or area of
excavation, resulting in a more accurate understanding of consumption patterns across
the site.
5.4.2 Fragmentation analysis
As this study requires an accurate representation of vessels consumed during the Civil
War, residual material needed to be identified and discounted. Although a certain
amount of contamination is to be expected due to taphonomic processes and conditions
of excavation, such material is a useful measure of how pristine deposits are as
secondary deposits are likely to have a high level of residuality and fragmentation.
Despite the fact that the majority of medieval vessels encountered in this study are
probably residual, studies of other Civil War sites such as the well at St. Paul-in-theBail, Lincoln, have indicated that vessels produced decades before the Civil War, such
as Cistercian ware, were consumed during the conflict (Young 2008, 30). Therefore,
similar vessels at the sites selected needed to be identified for inclusion within the
analysis, whilst residual material needed to be excluded. In addition, as with many
archaeological contexts, a substantial quantity of material consisted of fragmented
pottery which, if included, would overestimate the number of vessels found at the site.
These two problems, although arising from different circumstances, were addressed
using the same methodology.
The percentages of the separate elements (rim, body, base) of each vessel were totalled
to give a vessel completeness index out of 300 (representing a vessel with a complete
rim, body and base). This was then divided by three to ascertain the average
completeness of a vessel. For example, a vessel with 10% of the body, 20% of the base
but no rim would have an average completeness of 15% ((10+20+0)/3). As this figure is
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gained from an estimate of how representative sherds are of the entire vessel, it should
not be seen as an exact record of how complete a particular vessel is. It is also biased
towards the rim and base of a vessel which are smaller than the body but have the same
importance in calculating the fragmentation of a vessel. However, unlike other
approaches such as eve this approach utilises body sherds and accepts the possibility
that these might be the more complete part of a vessel. All non-contemporary vessels
less than 5% complete were identified as residual and were excluded from further
analysis. The majority of contemporary vessels less than 5% complete were also
excluded from subsequent analyses of vessel numbers although some unusual vessels,
such as porcelain vessel ECC200, were discussed elsewhere within the text.
5% may appear a relatively low percentage but this still represents a significant
percentage of a particular element, for example 15% of a rim or base. Furthermore as no
site, including Sandal, was subject to total excavation a large number of complete
vessels were unlikely. Although the degree of fragmentation was analysed and
discussed within the analysis, this threshold enabled the selection of an appropriate
number of vessels at all sites without heavily overestimating the number of vessels
present.
Analysis of non-residual and residual material during fragmentation analysis enabled an
insight into how mixed the archaeological deposits were as well as the proximity of
their deposits to their original source. This was particularly important as more
fragmented deposits are likely to have originated from a diverse number of sources or
sources which were further away, as fragmentation usually increases with distance from
a particular source. As a result fragmentation analysis included the following criteria:
1.
Total estimated number of vessels (ENV)
2.
Total number of sherds
3.
Total completeness of all vessels (%)
4.
Average completeness of all vessels (= criteria 3/criteria 1)
5.
Total non-residual ENV
6.
Total completeness of all non-residual vessels
7.
Average completeness of all non-residual vessels (=criteria 6/criteria 5)
8.
Number of vessels at least 5% complete
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9.
Total completeness of all vessels at least 5% complete
10.
Average completeness of vessels at least 5% complete (=criteria 9/criteria 8)
11.
Percentage of vessels at least 5% complete. (=criteria 8/criteria 1 *100)
12.
Percentage of non-residual vessels (=criteria 6/criteria 1 *100)
13.
Percentage of non-residual vessels at least 5% complete (=criteria 8/criteria 5
*100)
5.4.3 Form analysis
In order to compare social discourse both within and between sites, the proportions of
vessels within each zone of consumption were analysed using the sub-categories
outlined above (see 5.3.5.1) and displayed visually through the use of pie charts. This is
similar to approaches used for medieval ceramic assemblages from Southampton
(Brown 2002, 155), although to gain a more accurate understanding of each assemblage
only non-residual vessels at least 5% complete were analysed.
5.5
Customised analysis
The differing excavation and post-excavation procedures conducted at each site meant
that although a universal approach was applied, it had to be partially customised to the
particular requirements of each castle as outlined below.
5.5.1 Pontefract Castle
Some of the pottery excavated from context [99], part of the Constable Tower, was
unavailable for analysis. This included seven vessels noted to have complete profiles
which would probably have been viable for use analysis (Cumberpatch unpublished).
However, due to the difficulties in identifying all suitable vessels from vessel weight
and ENV counts, all unseen vessels were omitted from this study.
5.5.2 Sandal Castle
A small number of near-complete items were on display at local museums and as a
result could only be inspected visually. These were included in form analyses but some
details such as weight and, occasionally, location could not be recorded.
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5.6
Glass vessels
The glass assemblages from all three sites were visually checked and compared with the
original report with some re-identification of vessels. Forms were identified on the basis
of the established typology for early post-medieval glass (Willmott 2002). Due to the
fragile nature of glass and difficulties in its preservation vessels are usually highly
fragmented, with vessels at both Sandal and Pontefract being less than 5% complete. At
Eccleshall however, many vessels were substantially more complete, with extensive
efforts made to join fragments (Sheale 1993, 20). Due to the size of the assemblage,
although the identification of vessels was checked no further efforts were made to join
fragments.
The quantification of glass vessels is difficult due to their fragmented state, so a
minimum vessel count was established using the number of separate identifiable
elements such as rims and bases. The composition of the small assemblages at
Pontefract and Sandal could be analysed through description but at Eccleshall ceramic
sub-categories of form were applied (see table 5.8). Urinals and distillation equipment
were added to these sub-categories to include forms such as alembics, cucurbits and
urinals which do not feature in the ceramic assemblages.
5.7
Additional excavated material
As pottery and glass are rarely used in isolation, in order to understand the role material
culture played in consumption practices during the siege it is necessary to combine
ceramic analysis with other archaeological material, including metals and faunal
evidence. There was no botanical material recovered from any of the sites, although
studies from other castles such as Dudley (Moffett 1992) demonstrate their significance
during this period.
5.7.1 Additional material culture
Other artefacts associated with the consumption of food and drinks were compared with
the ceramic material using the original excavation reports. The full list of materials,
which appears in table 5.9, mainly consisted of metal, wooden and worked bone
implements such as cauldrons, bowls and knives.
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5.7.2 Ecological evidence
As the consumption of foodstuffs is as important as the vessels with which they are
consumed, where possible the published faunal reports were incorporated into the
analyses. Due to the nature of these reports this was only fully applicable to Pontefract
and, despite the presence of a bone report, analysis was impossible at Eccleshall due to
the unstratified nature of the deposit, (Eccleshall Archive unpublished). The bone report
for Sandal was used with caution as it restricted itself to analysis and discussion of
material by phase, which is problematic (see below, 7.7).
5.8
Use of written sources
In addition to archaeological sources, other forms of evidence were applied to the
analysed material to help contextualise the archaeological data. This was particularly
comprehensive at Pontefract, where a diary of the first and second sieges written by
Nathan Drake and an account of the third siege by Thomas Paulden reveal personal
details about the social discourse at the site (Walker 1997; Paulden 1702). At other sites
newssheets such as Mercurius Aulicus and Mercurius Britannicus were used for
contemporary information about the sieges, although account was taken of the
difficulties in using material which was essentially propaganda for the relevant sides.
5.9
Inter-site comparisons
Having fully explored the social discourse of each site individually, the assemblages
from all three sites were compared to other excavated sites with published reports.
These included military sites such as Beeston Castle, Cheshire (Ellis 1993a), Dudley
Castle, West Midlands (Ratkai 1985; Gaimster et al. 1996; Thomas 2005) and Basing
House, Hampshire (Moorhouse 1970: 1971a; Allen and Anderson 1999) as well as nonmilitary sites such as the well of St-Paul-in-the-Bail, Lincoln (Mann 2008). As part of
this comparison other written sources concerning consumption patterns during this
period were also employed, including domestic accounts from other garrisons such as
Great Chalfield, Wiltshire (Pafford 1940).
Although this process identified broad social trends at each site, it also identified
substantial differences demonstrating the need for a specific approach to each site.
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Where such difference occurred, these were contextualised within the history of that
particular site to elucidate why social discourse may have varied.
5.10 Conclusion
The study presented here is characterised by its holistic approach, concentrating not on
one single element of material culture but instead on the entire assemblage relating to
the consumption of food and drink. This requires an alternative approach to artefact
study, placing less importance on the identification of fabrics and their provenance in
favour of a social analysis of vessels situated within the temporal and spatial context in
which they were used. Only when this is achieved is it possible to fully appreciate the
significance material culture played in the complex social discourse of garrisons during
the English Civil War.
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6
6.1
Eccleshall
Introduction
The palace of the Bishops of Coventry and Lichfield, Eccleshall was, unlike most
castles, an active elite residence at the outbreak of war. Located four miles north-west of
Stafford (Grid reference SJ827295) the castle had originally been constructed by Bishop
Muscamp (died 1208), although it was rebuilt by Bishop Langton in the early 14th
century (Maddison 1993, 68). The bishop at the outbreak of war, Robert Wright, was
present when the castle was fortified for the King, although after a brief siege it was
surrendered to Parliament in September 1643. Slighted by Act of Parliament, the castle
was eventually demolished in 1689 with only part of the North Wall and North-East
Tower surviving above ground level. Excavations in the 1970s focussing on the North
Wall and its two towers produced an extensive assemblage which raises important
questions about the nature of deposition at the site.
It has been suggested that the deposits at Eccleshall relate to destruction during the
siege rather than its aftermath (Sheale 1993, 101). However, the subsequent use of the
castle as a garrison suggests this is not the case. The castle was still occasionally
threatened by Royalists (Vicars 1646, 66) and the infilling of a defensive feature,
however shallow, does not conform to its use as a military site. At other sites, most
notably Great Chalfield, Wiltshire, the ditch was cleared during the garrisoning of the
castle (Pafford 1940, 72) and despite being shallow it is likely such a process was
undertaken at Eccleshall. Consequently, the clearance of the site almost certainly took
place at some point between the end of the conflict and the demolition of the site around
1689. Viewing the assemblage at Eccleshall as an act of deliberate destruction rather
than the collateral damage of warfare highlights the role of many clearance sites in
marking a change in social discourse at the site.
6.2
Brief History of the Site
Robert Wright, Bishop of Coventry and Lichfield from 1632, had been an outspoken
critic of Parliament before the outbreak of war, being imprisoned in the Tower of
London for eighteen weeks in 1641 after protesting against Parliamentary procedure
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6 Eccleshall
(Stone 1870, 26). He was also a prominent anti-Puritan, playing a role in the publication
of a book in 1634 by Peter Studley in which two murders in Clun, Shropshire were
blamed on the murderer’s Puritan beliefs (Coulton 2003, 38). Noted for his dedication
to enriching himself rather than the diocese within his care, he had been subject to
complaints about his activities at Eccleshall, including the deforestation of the local
woods (Laud et al. 1853, 346). Despite returning to Eccleshall after his imprisonment it
was not his favoured residence, a note by Archbishop Laud in 1639 stating ‘that he
cannot have his health at Eccleshall, and hath therefore since resided in his palace at
Lichfield’ (Laud et al. 1853, 364; Cope 1990, 3). Nevertheless, he was resident at
Eccleshall at the commencement of the Parliamentarian siege.
Given the bishop’s religious stance it is unsurprising that Eccleshall was fortified for the
king, although a letter dated 25th February 1643 stating Charles I ‘hath written to the
Bishop of Lichfield to give way that a garrison may be kept at Ecclesall [sic] Castle for
the security of those parts’ indicates the fortification was at the king’s request (Bickley
1930, 94). A certain Captain Bird was placed in charge of the garrison (Wood 1692,
655) and the castle, as with other garrisons such as Beeston, was used as a secure
storage place with ‘many of the chiefest papists and great malignants in those parts
having brought their Money, Plate and Goods thither, thinking to secure them there
from the Parliaments Forces’ (Bates 1643). One such malignant may have been Lady
Gerrard of Gerrards Bromley whose goods were restored to her after the siege at the
bequest of the Parliamentarian Committee at Stafford (Pemberton and Roots 1957, 7677) although another, the Bishop’s daughter, had her dowry seized despite being
supposedly innocent of Royalist sympathies (HMC 4th report 1874, 266). As the
assemblage at Eccleshall reflects not just a constant and largely unthreatened garrison
but also a store for the gentry’s wealth, the material deposited there has a greater
complexity than those of Pontefract and Sandal, whose assemblages almost totally
related to a siege garrison.
After the fall of Stafford Castle in June 1643 Eccleshall was besieged by Sir William
Brereton during July or August, a newssheet of 8th September suggesting the siege
lasted ten weeks (Alsop 1643). Throughout the siege the town of Eccleshall was
occupied by Parliamentarian troops, although all outbuildings had been burnt by
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Captain Bird to prevent their use by the enemy (Sanderson 1658, 658). Royalist reports
suggest that those besieged were predominantly:
‘Ladies and Gentlewomen of the County, who purposely came thither to secure
themselves in these times of danger. And that they are so gallantly resolved upon it, that
though their victuals doe begin to faile already, they meane to stand upon their guard
and defend the place (in hope His Majestie will relieve them e’re it come to that) as long
as they have horse flesh, water, and old leather left to preserve nature. Which as it
shewes the bravery, and courage of those noble Ladies, so is it an infallible argument of
the incivility and rudenesse of those barbarcus Rebels (who regard neither sex nor
quality of persons) from whom the best that can be looked for, is more unsufferable
then the miseries of warre and famine.’
(Heylyn 1643a)
Reportedly two 24 pound cannon were employed to besiege the castle but after a week
of bombardment, and despite the collapse one of the castle’s turrets, the lack of a
serviceable breach caused the besiegers to surround the castle and starve the occupants
into surrender (Sanderson 1658, 658). The siege was raised and the castle’s stores
replenished in early September by Royalist troops belonging to Lord Capel and
commanded by Colonel Hastings (Heylyn 1643b]) but the relief was temporary as the
castle surrendered two days later. This was reportedly due to the treachery of the new
commander, the Danish Captain Eball, who ‘negotiated with the Rebels...and for 200l
no more (for at so meane a price did he set his honour) gave it up unto them, to the great
disshonour of his nation, and the extreame griefe of the Gentleman [Colonel Hastings],
whose confidence he had abused in so base a manner’ (Heylyn 1643c). An alternative
account suggests it was another member of the garrison, disaffected with the new
foreign governor, who informed the Parliamentarians of a weakness in the castle
defences which forced a surrender after a renewed bombardment but Captain Eball8,
was subsequently put on trial and imprisoned by the Royalists for his perceived
treachery (Sanderson 1658, 659; Bickley 1930, 105; Ellis and Atherton 2009, 235, 244).
At some point during the siege Bishop Wright died within the castle walls and was
8
Also written as ‘Captain Abel a Dane’ (Sanderson 1658, 659)
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possibly buried at the local church (Ingler 1643; Stone 1870, 26). The cause of his death
is unknown, but as he was aged around 84 it is likely to have been natural causes.
An account of the siege is given by Bishop Wright’s widow Bridget, who petitioned the
House of Lords on July 1660 to recover some of her belongings. Her account reads as
follows:
‘in 1643 his late Majesty sent Captain Thomas Bird to make a garrison of Eccleshall
Castle, then the habitation of petitioner and her husband, the Bishop of Coventry and
Lichfield; they were besieged about ten weeks; while helping in the works of the castle
petitioner received a wound by a shot in the shoulder, of which she lay sick and weak
for six months; her husband died and lay for five weeks unburied; the Queen hearing of
their distressed condition sent Lord Lowthberrye with forces to relieve them, and
petitioner being wounded then went out of the castle, leaving her servants with Lord
Lowthberrye’s soldiers to keep it; they were afterwards obliged to deliver it up upon
conditions to Sir William Brereton, one of the conditions being that petitioner should
have all the goods, plate, jewels, and money belonging to her, contrary to which Sir
William Brereton has converted them to his own use and refuses to give them up,
amounting as they do to the value of 5,000l.; petitioner has lain five years in prison for
debts contracted by her husband in the time of the late wars, and is in a most necessitous
condition. She prays that Sir William Brereton may be ordered to make her satisfaction
for her goods, plate, jewels, and money, which would both maintain her and satisfy her
creditors, and that this her right against him may be excepted in the Act of general
pardon.’
(HMC 7th Report, 121)
In addition to the county’s valuables, the Parliamentarian troops also took control of
forty barrels of beer and a trunk of plate, which was subsequently employed by the
military (Pemberton and Roots 1957, lxiv). Despite being threatened briefly by Royalist
troops from nearby garrisons at Linshall and Tong Castle (Vicars 1646, 66), the castle
was subsequently held for Parliament for the duration of the war. The castle was used to
house prisoners, a parallel with its use during the medieval period when it was regularly
employed for this purpose (Sheale 1993, 9, see below 6.7).
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The garrison at Eccleshall was comparatively small when compared to the 80 men
present at the surrender of Sandal Castle or the hundreds of men present at Pontefract at
any given time (see 2.8.2 for Sandal and 8.2.1 for Pontefract). References to the
garrison in Brereton’s letterbooks suggests a permanent garrison of fourteen men on 7th
March 1646, although other men and horse paid out of the allowance for the castle were
possibly engaged in duties elsewhere (Carr and Atherton 2007, 71). This reflects the
comparative safety of the castle in 1646 as it was situated in an area almost totally under
Parliamentarian control with the nearest Royalist garrisons, at Lichfield and Tutbury
Castle, being under siege.
The slighting ordered by parliament in 1647 was not as drastic as that of other
buildings, such as Pontefract, but led to the castle being largely uninhabited. A drawing
of the East Wing at Eccleshall dated 1687 (MS. Tanner 217, fol. 45) shows a section
including the North-East Tower standing but in ruins. It was demolished in the late 17th
century, a document dated 1689 referring to the cost of ‘pulling downe of ye Great
Tower ye stands in ye middle of ye Court of ye Castle and make good ye repairs’ at a
cost of £1209.
6.2.1 Excavations
The excavations of the castle were conducted by Stafford and mid-Staffordshire
Archaeology Society between 1973 and 1975 and directed by Jack Fisher. The
investigations focussed on the North Wall of the castle including the moat, the NorthEast Tower and the North-West Tower, with each trench assigned a separate code
(Fisher 1993; see fig. 6.1). The base of the North-West Tower was excavated by Keele
University Summer School under the directorship of Dr. Francis Celoria. The principal
material groups within the archive are pottery, glass, bone and tobacco pipe although
limited amounts of metalwork were also recovered. With the exception of the glass
(Sheale 1993), the results of the excavation were not disseminated outside the
unpublished archive, although some notes on aspects of the excavations and the
resultant finds are stored at the Potteries Museum, Stoke-on-Trent.
9
A copy of the document is included within the Eccleshall excavation archive.
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6.3
The pottery
In total 1,151 sherds of pottery were analysed, representing an estimated 370 vessels
and with a combined weight of 421.51kg. 212 vessels (57.30% of all vessels) are not
residual or intrusive and these are on average 11.81% complete. 67 vessels (29.11% of
all vessels) are at least 5% complete, being 36.89% complete on average (see table 6.1).
The relatively high number of residual vessels when compared to other sites such as
Sandal can be attributed to the lack of stratigraphy within the moat as, although it was
probably cleared prior to the 1643 siege, some residual material is likely to have
remained. This is supported by the majority of residual vessels being represented by
single sherds, many of which were abraded. Significantly, despite the partial
excavations, non-residual vessels were more complete at Eccleshall than Sandal and
Pontefract, suggesting a localised pattern of deposition and a relative lack of postdepositional disturbance, although cross-matching sherds do indicate some variation
within this practice (see below, 7.4 for Sandal and 8.4.1 for Pontefract). Although an
estimated 66 vessels are intrusive these are mostly garden furniture such as flower pots
and reflect the use of the area as a garden after the construction of the new bishop’s
palace in the late 17th century.
6.3.1 Cross-matching sherds
Out of 213 non-residual vessels an estimated 37 have sherds deposited in several
different trenches10. Joining sherds from adjacent areas are to be expected due to the
arbitrary demarcation of trenches but five vessels join across areas. Four vessels (ECC9,
57, 203 and 207) join between the North-East Tower and the North Wall and one
(ECC91) joins between the North-West Tower and the North Wall. In addition, ten nonresidual vessels from trench B joined with sherds from trenches on the opposite side of
the North-East Tower (ECC8, 14, 23, 48, 57, 91, 115, 132, 144, and 195). This
distribution suggests that some vessels were broken prior to disposal from the Tower, a
pattern mirrored by medieval ceramics at Sandal (Moorhouse 1983a, 172, fig. 64). No
vessels join between trenches J and K, although the distribution of glass vessels within
10
This figure excludes sherds which were from a bag number linked to multiple areas, for example C/F.
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the area suggests an identical origin for the deposits in these two areas (see below,
6.4.2).
Significantly, only two vessels with sherds joining between areas (ECC57 and 91) were
at least 5% complete. The other three (ECC9, 203, 207) were unidentified body sherds,
demonstrating the thoroughness of the post-excavation process and highlighting the
confined disposal of vessels at the castle. Therefore, analysis of vessels suggests that the
vessels deposited in each area closely relate to the consumption practices from separate
areas within the castle.
6.3.2 Distribution of vessels
An estimated 183 vessels were recovered from the North-East Tower and the North
Wall; the two areas which were the focus of the excavation (see fig. 6.2). This figure is
considerably less around the North-West Tower (32 ENV), reflecting the smaller scale
of excavations there. 33 vessels deposited along the North Wall are at least 5%
complete, compared to 23 vessels around the North-East Tower (see fig. 6.3). This may
reflect different disposal strategies, with vessels deposited from the tower being more
diffuse, and thus less complete, than those deposited over the wall and this is supported
by the number of vessels joining around the base of the tower (6.3.1). Given the
concentration of glass vessels within trench J (see below, 6.4.2) the relative paucity of
ceramic vessels in this area is surprising, with just nine vessels at least 5% complete.
However, the deposits from the North-East Tower have a bias of ceramic over glass
vessels, suggesting preferential use of different material in different areas of the castle.
This will be discussed in greater detail with reference to the glass assemblage (see
below, 6.4.2).
6.3.3 Vessel analysis by form
Analysis of all vessels at least 5% complete demonstrate that drinking vessels form only
11% of the assemblage, six vessels in total, a phenomenon in sharp contrast with Sandal
and Pontefract (see fig. 6.4). Food preparation and liquid transportation vessels
dominate, comprising of 25% and 30% of the total assemblage respectively (fourteen
and seventeen vessels). The lack of drinking vessels is indicative of the importance
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glass vessels played within the castle, a phenomenon discussed in greater detail below
(see below, 6.4).
The North-West Tower produced only one identified vessel at least 5% complete, a fine
storage vessel, and therefore cannot be analysed. A food preparation vessel from the
North-East Tower and North Wall and a large storage vessel from the North-West
Tower and North Wall were also excluded from further analysis as these joined between
separate areas. An examination of the remaining assemblages, from the North-East
Tower and North Wall, revealed significant differences that merit further examination.
6.3.3.1 The North Wall
The assemblage from the North Wall (see fig. 6.5) contains 30 identified vessels which
form eleven categories of vessel including a candlestick, lid, fuming pot and a
perforated cover which may be the lid of a leech jar or fuming pot/heating stand (ECC4,
188, 195 and 197). The assemblage also has a higher proportion of drinking and
cooking vessels than the rest of the castle (four vessels from each category representing
13% of the total assemblage respectively), and two fine storage vessels, a form which is
only represented elsewhere by a single vessel (ECC43) from the North-West Tower.
There are no food serving vessels, despite their presence in the assemblage from the
North-East Tower (see below, 6.3.3.2).
Due to the proliferation of other forms, liquid transportation vessels form a smaller
percentage of the assemblage than in the North-East Tower (26% compared to 41%)
despite both areas having a comparable number of vessels (eight vessels compared to
nine vessels from the North-East Tower). With the exception of one bottle/flask
(ECC215) all the liquid transportation vessels are jugs, unlike Sandal where personal
vessels such as costrels were dominant (see 8.4.7.1 for a comparison between Sandal
and Pontefract, which also has a high number of jugs). The lack of personal vessels
highlights the importance of communal consumption at the site, although as many of the
jugs pre-date the 17th century they also indicate the role out-dated material played in
social discourse. The North Wall produced a similar number of food preparation vessels
as the North-East Tower, six compared to seven, but due to the greater number of other
vessel types they form 19% of the assemblage as opposed to 32% of the assemblage
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from the North-East tower. Only two heavy duty storage vessels (7% of the assemblage)
are present which, along with the paucity of storage vessels from the rest of the
excavation, suggests that the area of the castle responsible for the North Wall deposits
was not associated with the longer term containment of foodstuffs.
6.3.3.2 The North-East Tower
The assemblage from the North-East Tower consists of 20 identifiable vessels (see fig.
6.6). In contrast to the North Wall it contains a restricted variety of forms with two
categories being dominant: liquid transportation (nine vessels representing 45% of the
assemblage) and food preparation (five vessels representing 25%). As with the North
Wall all the liquid transportation vessels from this area are jugs. However, the restricted
vessel forms from this area combined with the relative paucity of glass vessels (see
below, 6.4.2) suggests a more restricted social discourse than the assemblage from the
North Wall and may suggest the area was primarily used for the preparation of food
rather than its consumption. Given the number of jugs and the large size of the
pancheons, many of which are over 350mm in diameter (several are over 450mm,
including ECC8 and 13), the food prepared within this area was probably intended for
communal consumption, although the relative lack of finewares including glass suggests
this may have been consumption amongst the lesser ranks rather than the resident elite.
Four categories: drinking vessels, large storage jars, small storage vessels and cooking
vessels, are represented by a single vessel each (5% of the total assemblage), whilst
food serving vessels are represented by two Chinese Ming porcelain dishes (10% of the
total assemblage). One other porcelain bowl (ECC200), recovered from the North Wall,
was less than 5% complete but indicates that serving vessels were not confined to the
North-East Tower alone despite their absence within the North Wall analysis.
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6.3.4 Sooted vessels
Eleven vessels at least 5% complete have evidence of sooting11 (see table 6.2): five
cooking vessels (ECC3, 14, 126, 180 and 186), three jugs (ECC88, 92 and 185), one
pancheon (ECC116), one lid (ECC4) and a fuming pot (ECC195). The possible leech or
fuming pot lid (ECC197) may have also been subject to some heat, as the exterior glaze
is crazed and discoloured whilst there is slight discolouration on its interior. The
pancheon (EC116) is sooted on the broken edges of its interior, suggesting it was burnt
after use. As a result only jugs, cooking vessels and vessels associated with heating
have definite evidence of sooting. The three jugs which are sooted suggest the heating
of liquids for group consumption, a practice which may have had some longevity given
the heavy sooting on one jug in particular, ECC88, which dated to the 13th/14th century.
This is supported by the lack of sooting on smaller artefacts such as drinking vessels, a
phenomenon in sharp contrast to the assemblages from the other two castles (see 7.4.4
for Sandal and 8.4.3 for Pontefract).
The medieval date of ECC88 is shared by a number of other sooted vessels as only three
are of 17th century date; a brown glazed coarseware cooking vessel (ECC186), a lid
(ECC4) and fuming pot (ECC195). The remaining vessels all date from the medieval
period to the first half of the 16th century including two archaic vessels which have
particularly heavy deposits: a 15th-century dripping pan (ECC3) and a late 15th/early
16th-century Dutch tripod cooking pot (ECC180). The dripping pan also has a thick
deposit of food residue compatible with its primary function as a receptacle for the
juices of roasting meat (MPRG 1998, 5.3.6). As all these vessels were over a century
old at the time of deposition the longevity of use may explain the depth of sooting on
these vessels, although they also highlight the use-life of such vessels extended into the
17th century despite forms such as the dripping pan no longer being produced.
The restricted range of sooted vessels indicates that Eccleshall was better equipped than
Sandal as the garrison was not forced to improvise with cooking vessels, unlike the
11
A further four ENV (ECC42 and 93) had evidence of sooting but as these were only small fragments
were not included in detailed analysis. Pancheon ECC6 had slight sooting but as less than 5% of the
vessel was present this vessel was also excluded.
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other castle. This may be due to the nature of Eccleshall as an active elite residence
which catered for mass consumption in the decades preceding the Civil War, unlike
Sandal which was largely unoccupied. The wealth of the castle may also explain the
paucity of 17th-century sooted vessels due to a preference for metal cooking vessels
during this period which facilitated catering for large groups. As these rarely enter the
archaeological record, the resultant assemblage suggests a lack of contemporary
material rather than a preference for vessels which were both larger and, financially,
more valuable.
Seven of the sooted vessels were recovered from the North Wall, six from the NorthEast Tower, one from the North-West Tower and another was a vessel with sherds
joining between the North-East Tower and North Wall. All the sooted jugs originated
from the North-East Tower whereas four of the five cooking vessels were recovered
from the North Wall. The difference in sooting patterns alongside the difference in
assemblage compositions between these two areas (see above, 6.3.3) suggests separate
areas of social discourse within the site.
6.3.5 Local fabrics
Of 62 vessels at least 5% complete, 57 are manufactured from fabrics which are of
probable midlands origin. Unlike Wrenthorpe vessels (see above, 3.5.1), there are no
distinctive markings to identify local wares but many almost certainly originated from
local potteries such as Penkhull, Tunstall and Burslem, whilst further afield Ticknall in
Staffordshire had been a major producer of pottery since the medieval period (Spavold
and Brown, 2005, 85).
The lack of drinking vessels and small or fine storage vessels is reflected in the paucity
of local finewares which only represent ten out of the 57 vessels (17.54%). These
consist of six Cistercian and blackware vessels (four drinking vessels, one fine handled
jar and a candlestick) and three yellow ware vessels (one small storage vessel, one small
drug jar and a possible leech jar lid). This contrasts strongly with other assemblages
such as Sandal, Pontefract and Beeston where finewares, particularly drinking vessels,
dominate (see 7.4.3 for Sandal and 8.4.7 for Pontefract. For Beeston see Noake 1993,
191). Instead, coarsewares dominate the assemblage with seventeen brown-glazed
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coarseware vessels consisting of eleven food preparation vessels, two fine storage
vessels, one cooking vessel and three unidentified vessels. The coarseware fabrics are of
particular interest as they are all either of medieval date or have strong medieval
precursors and thus merit further discussion (see below, 6.3.7).
6.3.6 Non-local vessels
Surprisingly, there was little or no Rhenish stoneware recoded at the site12, despite
being prominent at many other Civil War sites including Basing House (Moorhouse
1971a, 73-80), Montgomery (Knight 1982, 51-2) and Beeston (Noake 1993, 209). This
is a phenomenon mirrored by the large assemblage from Dudley castle which, like
Eccleshall, was a high-status residence prior to the conflict (Ratkai 2007, 110).
However, the presence of Rhenish stoneware at other elite inland sites indicates that the
status of this ceramic was complex and it cannot be automatically assumed that such
vessels were objects for the ‘middling sort’ rather than the elite. Despite the lack of
Rhenish stoneware there are nine non-local vessels, both from national and international
sources (see also table 6.3):

A Surrey/Hampshire borderware vessel (ECC198) retrieved from an unknown
location. This is a double-handled necked cup manufactured within the
Blackwater valley on the border of north-east Hampshire and west Surrey
(Pearce 2007, 1, 68). Produced between 1480 and 1550, they have a wide
distribution including Southampton, Monmouthshire, Nottingham and Reading
(Pearce 2007, 71-2). Significantly a similar vessel was retrieved from the
destruction deposits of Basing House and it has been suggested it was curated
due to its high quality (Moorhouse 1970, 62; Pearce 2007, 72).

Anglo-Dutch tin glazed earthenwares, all retrieved from the North Wall. One
sherd (ECC70) is too fragmentary to identify but two other near complete
vessels (ECC193 and 194) were also recovered, both of which originated from
12
A single sherd of a Frechen flask was possibly recovered by the Keele Summer School (Wilcock
unpublished.) and further sherds are mentioned within the site diary but these are absent from the site
archive.
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the Netherlands. ECC193 is a drug jar manufactured in the Netherlands during
the mid-late 16th century and ECC194 is a Dutch drinking vessel dated 1632.
The profile of many Dutch drinking vessels, such as that exemplified by
ECC194, is paralleled in some blackwares and the manganese mottled wares
present at Sandal and Pontefract (see 7.4.5 and 8.4.5). Their presence
emphasises the cosmopolitan nature of consumption during this period, other
Dutch imports including beer which went rapidly from distrusted resource to
national drink (McBride 2004, 183), although there were still social groups who
identified it with a foreign identity (see above, 3.4.4). However, it should be
noted that their adoption was not due to emulation, as demonstrated below.

A Dutch redware tripod cooking pot (ECC180) recovered from the North Wall.
One-handled cooking pots or grape were manufactured in smaller quantities
than double-handled cooking pots or grapen; however, it was the latter which
were more commonly imported into England (Baart 1994, 26) and appear at
many port sites including Southampton (Brown 2002, 32-3), Norwich (Jennings
1981, 137-8) and Lincoln (Young and Vince 2005, 228-229). The example from
Eccleshall dates from the late 15th to early 16th centuries (e.g. Baart 1994, 22,
fig. 1; Hurst et al. 1986, 131, fig. 59.181).

The rim of a Saintonge polychrome chafing dish (ECC199) retrieved from the
North Wall. The realistic full-length female figure applied to the vessel suggests
a date between 1550 and 1600 (Hurst 1974, 234). Unusually there is no evidence
for vertical knobs or horizontal roundels above the figure, the vessel instead
having a flattened, slightly clubbed, rim. Despite not being included in the form
analysis, being less than 5% complete, the presence of another cooking vessel
emphasises the number of cooking vessels from this location.

One Chinese porcelain bowl (ECC200) retrieved from the North Wall and two
saucer dishes (ECC201, 202) from the North-East Tower. A brief report
included within the Eccleshall Castle archive includes at least two other teabowl
sherds from trench C and an unknown location and two saucer sherds also from
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trench C, but these are missing from the excavation archive (Eccleshall Archive
unpublished.). All three vessels date from the latter phases of Ming dynasty,
which ended in 1644. The bowl (ECC200) was probably produced in the first
quarter of the 17th century during the Wanli period (1575-1620). Although
extremely fragmentary, the zoomorphic motif on its exterior may be a phoenix,
with similar designs appearing on dishes of this period (e.g. Harrison-Hall 2001,
273).
The two dishes, also dating from the Wanli period, are produced within the
Kraak tradition. Deriving from the word caracca, a type of merchant ship used
during the late 16th-early 17th centuries, these vessels were mass produced for
exportation by the Dutch (Jörg 1997, 54). Both ECC201 and 202 are typical
examples of a Border VIII dish (Rinaldi 1989, 109), comprising of a central,
multipointed medallion surrounded by a series of smaller roundels containing
floral imagery (Vinhais and Walsh 2008, 108). The exterior, consisting of a
series of roundels with five dots in the centre of each, is also typical. A similar
example to those at Eccleshall has been more closely dated to 1600-1615
(Vinhais and Walsh 2008, 108).
Such vessels are extremely rare in the archaeological record and are absent from
other elite sites both in Staffordshire, including Tutbury and Stafford (Barker
2011, 223-4; Ratkai 2007, 77-78), and further afield (for example Nonsuch
Palace (Biddle 2005)). Only three sherds, from a bowl and a vase, or ewer, were
recovered from the extensive excavations at Basing House (Moorhouse 1970,
82-3). Their rarity in the archaeological record may be slightly misleading as it
is estimated a quarter of early/mid-17th-century Exeter inventories contain
references to china ware and this is supported by thirteen vessels excavated from
the city, representing ‘the largest series of Ming porcelain identified in Britain’
(Allan 1984, 105; Peck 2005, 50). Despite this, the vessels were still extremely
desirable with metal often being used to embellish the items to enhance their
social value; for example in December 1638 Brilliana Harley wrote to her son
concerning ‘two cruets of china, with silluer [silver] and gilt couers, and bars
and feete’ (Lewis 1854, 15). Such mountings usually bear English rather than
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continental markings, indicating their importance in drinking rituals particular to
this country (Lunsingh Scheurleer 1974, 51).
The range of imported pottery at Eccleshall is remarkable and indicates the
cosmopolitan nature of social discourse at the castle, a feature of elite households who
could afford to indulge in goods imported from the Continent and further afield (Peck
2005, 18). As other Civil War storage sites such as Beeston do not have the same range
of material (Noake 1993) the range of pottery retrieved from the castle can be attributed
to its status as an active elite residence during the early 17th century. In addition, the
range of imports reflects the cosmopolitan nature of warfare during the period, with
officers and infantry from many different countries, and the Low Countries in particular,
participating in the conflict. Danish Captain Eball, who surrendered the castle, was not
alone, at least 105 foreign officers served in the Parliamentarian and Royalist armies
(Stoyle 2005, 97), including the Royalist ‘Dutchman’ responsible for the great gun at
Pontefract (Walker 1997, 44) and the German John Rosworm who was responsible for
the Parliamentarian defences at Manchester (Stoyle 2005, 93). Although the total
number of foreign soldiers within the two armies may never have numbered more than
around two thousand (Stoyle 2005, 97), their presence was noteworthy. Despite the
emphasis on local defenders at Sandal and Pontefract (see 7.4.5 for Sandal and 8.4.5 at
Pontefract), at other sites the heterogeneity of the inhabitants was of greater importance.
This is particularly notable at Eccleshall, a house fortified by a much-absent bishop,
commanded by a Dane and occupied by a Cheshire knight. Therefore, the material
culture consumed within the castle was as cosmopolitan, and in some cases as exotic, as
its inhabitants.
Despite being only a small part of the overall assemblage, the use of imported vessels in
several areas of discourse, including drinking and the presentation of small amounts of
foodstuffs, is significant. The group of porcelain vessels are particularly important as
these were associated with an aspirational style of living (Peck 2005, 50). When
combined with an analysis of the glass vessels from the site they indicate clearly the
high status of the site prior to the conflict.
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6.3.7 Out-dated vessels
There is some difficulty in identifying vessels which were definitely out-dated by the
17th century as medieval traditions were continued within new fashions. This is
demonstrated by vessel ECC11, a medium-sized storage jar whose fabric and glaze are
unquestionably of post-medieval origin. However, its form is typically medieval, the
rim being everted and bevelled with a slight external thickening. This piece
demonstrates the complexities of medieval influences within pottery manufacture from
this area and a continuation of tradition from the medieval period well into the 16th and
17th centuries means there is some difficulty in separating medieval and post-medieval
vessels (Barker 2011, 210, 223).
Despite this, half of all vessels at least 5% complete (32 out of 64 vessels) were
manufactured from fabrics pre-dating 17th century (see table 6.4). Many of these vessels
are of fabrics which are unquestionably medieval in date and emphasise the use of
antiquated vessels at this site. They include:

Two Midlands purple jugs (ECC173 and 183) that have their roots in the 14th15th centuries and were produced alongside Cistercian wares during the 16th
century. Despite being no longer being produced, their presence here indicates
they were still in use until the mid-17th century (Barker 2011, 218).

Two vessels manufactured from iron-rich sandy ware (irsw), ECC14 and 15.
ECC14, a cooking jar, is almost 50% complete so was almost certainly in use
until the mid-17th century whilst ECC15 is a jug that is just over 13% complete.
The medieval fabric was used in vessels manufactured from the 11th to 14th
centuries (Ford 1995, 33).

A dripping pan, ECC3, which is clearly of medieval form. This vessel probably
dates from the 14th-15th centuries and is heavily sooted (see above, 6.3.4).

ECC198, a Surrey/Hampshire borderware drinking vessel dating to the early to
mid-16th century, which was a non-local import to the castle and has been
discussed in greater detail above (see above, 6.3.6).
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
A Midlands whiteware pipkin, ECC126. The fabric is ubiquitous on medieval
sites in Staffordshire and dates from the 12th to 14th centuries (Ford 1995, 3435).

Seventeen coarseware vessels of unidentified fabrics are also probably of
medieval origin. Several of these (for example ECC73 and 74) are similar to
vessels excavated from the post-medieval phases Burslem Art School Site (D.
Klemperer pers. comm.) and suggest medieval traditions were long-lived.
 In addition to coarseware vessels there are three fine drinking vessels at least 5%
complete with Cistercian ware influences, (ECC189, 190 and 192). ECC189 is a
transitional form but ECC190 is a Cistercian Staffordshire type4d three-handled
vessel (e.g. Barker 1986a, 55). ECC192 is a clear example of a Cistercian ware
type three drinking vessel with an elaborate decoration of a masculine face
amongst foliage. The source of this vessel is unlikely to be Stoke-on-Trent as no
decorated sherds have been retrieved from nearby kiln sites, although no
parallels for this design have been seen elsewhere (Barker 1986a, 53; A. Irving
pers. comm.).
Despite the significant number of outdated vessels, there were also recent innovations
such as a press-moulded dish, first manufactured around 164013 (Barker 1999, 228).
There is also one small body sherd of possible slipware (ECC130), a type which was
produced increasingly during the 17th century and was first manufactured in Burslem
and Hanley, Stoke-on-Trent, during the 1640s (Barker 1993, 14)14. However, these
sherds are small and contrast strongly with the number of vessels with a pre-17thcentury date or influence.
13
This vessel is absent from the excavation archive, but is mentioned within Barker’s report on Tutbury
Castle (Barker 2011, 222).
14
Five further Staffordshire slipware sherds were recovered by the Keele Summer School from the North-
West Tower (Wilcock unpublished., n.p.) but these are absent from the archive and as a result are
excluded from analysis.
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Therefore, the pottery from the site shows strong links with the past both in terms of
archaic vessels and vessels of 17th-century date with clear allusions to earlier periods.
Although it has been suggested that the earlier pieces may be attributed to medieval
dumping patterns (Ford 1996, 1), the presence of 17th-century material within all phases
of the site, and the likelihood of the ditch being cleared prior to the defence of the castle
as at other garrisons such as Great Chalfield, Wiltshire, (Pafford 1940, 72) makes it
highly likely medieval vessels were being used during the 17th century.
Significantly the mid-17th century is seen as a turning point for many of the studies of
the Staffordshire potteries, with the increase in production around Burslem and Hanley
marking the rise of the regional industry. After this period the use of older wares such as
Midlands purple ware declined (Barker 2011, 221), and slipware products rose to
prominence alongside the development of the black ware and brown-glazed coarseware
industries. The clearance of so many out-dated vessels at this point must be seen in this
context, namely the opportunity to dispose of many unwanted artefacts and replace
them with more modern examples. Although this provides one explanation for their
disposal, it does little to explain the social mechanism behind the action and the impact
it would have. The pattern of antiquated forms deposited within a Civil War demolition
context can also be seen when analysing the vessel glass from the site.
6.4
Vessel Glass
The vessel glass from the site has been the subject of an extensive report which forms
the basis of this analysis (Sheale 1993). In total there are 351 separate vessel elements
of which 70 are unidentified. A further 44 vessels were deposited after the demolition of
the castle in a period spanning from 1675 until the present day. The fragmentation of
glass vessels means it is difficult to ascertain an exact number of vessels, although a
minimum number can be obtained through counting the individual elements of each
vessel. Analysis suggests a minimum of 120 vessels were present at the site (see tables
6.5 and 6.6).
It has been suggested that the suspension of the glass industry in England during the
Civil War and Interregnum would have resulted in the removal of glass vessels from the
site as desirable and valuable objects (Sheale 1993, 14). However, contemporary
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accounts suggest they were relatively cheap, an inventory of 1655 values urinals and
biscuit moulds at a mere six shillings and, although copious lists of different types of
ointments and unguents are made, the glass in which presumably some of them were
contained is not deemed worthy of mention (Vaisey 1969, 101). Given the value of
glass compared to goods within the castle, the bishop’s wife’s valuables alone being
estimated at £5,000 (see above, 6.2), it is unlikely that fragile glass vessels were
removed for sale due to the high effort required for a relatively low gain.
Glass vessels at Eccleshall were not only an indication of the inhabitants’ conspicuous
style of living but also the bishopric’s patronage of the industry, as Bishop Wright’s
predecessor William Overton had probably established French glassworkers at Bishop’s
Wood, four miles from his palace at Eccleshall (Greenslade and Stuart 1965, 42; Sheale
1993, 10). This meant that until 1615, when a government proclamation banning the use
of wood as a fuel in glassmaking forced the relocation of the industry to the coal-rich
areas of Newcastle-upon-Tyne and Stourbridge, glass production was directly linked
with the see of Coventry and Lichfield. Although this provides an explanation for the
large number of forest green glass vessels of local manufacture (83 MNV), there are a
significant number of imported green glass and façon de Venise vessels which were
imported from both national and international sources.
6.4.1 Vessel form
Fifteen vessel forms were represented by the glass from Eccleshall, representing eight
known categories of vessel use (see tables 6.5 and 6.6). The large number of drinking
vessels, a minimum of 55 forming 46% of the glass assemblage, explains the low
proportion of ceramic vessels within this category (see above, 6.3.3; figs. 6.7 and 6.8).
Although there is some differentiation between goblets and beakers in contemporary
literature, with beakers associated with ale and beer and goblets with wine, the similar
number of vessels at Eccleshall (a minimum of 27 beakers and 28 goblets) indicates that
in reality both were used in conjunction with each other. This is supported by
contemporary literature, a woodcut of the Civil War displaying examples of each type
of drinking vessel alongside other material culture including tobacco pipes (see fig.
6.10).
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The significant number of flasks and one Germanic kuttrolf bottle (twelve MNV, 10%
of the assemblage) complements the significant number of jugs deposited within the
deposits and highlights the role played by the conspicuous consumption of alcohol,
particularly as glass was often used to enhance the liquid it contained (see above, 3.5.2).
In addition, the importance of glass in the serving of food is indicated by the number of
dishes present (thirteen MNV, 10.83% of the assemblage). Previous research suggests
this may have been of greater importance in elite, as opposed to urban, contexts,
perhaps due to the fact that the vessels reflected the greater status of the food contained
within them (Willmott 2002, 26).
When examined alongside assemblages such as Sandal and Pontefract, where pottery
forms dominate, the comparative wealth of the assemblage at Eccleshall becomes
apparent. Its presence in all fine vessel categories indicates its inclusion within all
spheres of consumption at the castle. Although the relative economic value of glass may
be overstated (e.g. Willmott 2002, 24-6), its abundance at Eccleshall serves not only as
a demonstration of ecclesiastical patronage of local industry but also the wealth of
Bishop Wright and his predecessors. The small but significant number of small storage
vessels (eight MNV, 11% of the assemblage) suggests that, as with drinking vessels,
glass was used in preference over ceramic wherever possible as only two ceramic small
storage vessels were recovered. In addition the large number of urinals (twelve MNV,
10% of vessels) may also go some way to explaining the lack of fine handled storage
vessels, as these are often interpreted as chamberpots (Cumberpatch 2002, 221).
Although glass was the preferred material for uroscopy due to its translucent qualities
(Willmott 2002, 103), the lack of possible ceramic alternatives at the castle is unusual
given their concentration elsewhere.
6.4.2 Vessel Distribution
Despite some analysis of vessel distribution within the original report (Sheale 1993, 93103) it is impossible to examine this in greater detail due to a lack of information on
cross-joining fragments. However, broad trends of deposition can still be identified and
these are discussed below (see also fig. 6.11).
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The majority of glass was recovered from the North Wall, particularly trench K.
Although vessels were deposited within all trenches along the North Wall fragments
join between trenches K and J, complementing the ceramic evidence and suggesting
vessels were already broken prior to deposition with all material originating from a
single source (Sheale 1993, 101). The distribution of vessels suggests some degree of
restriction to particular groups, as drinking paraphernalia is predominantly associated
with the North Wall. Almost all beaker fragments were found along the North Wall
(Sheale 1993, 95) and, although a number of goblet fragments were deposited outside
the North-East Tower, the majority were also deposited along the North Wall,
particularly within trench E.
Bowls and bottles were more widespread, although jars were largely restricted to the
North Wall. The widespread distribution of bottles may be due to their predominantly
medicinal purpose, despite a lack of urinals outside the North Wall. Glass bottles were
an important container for medicines, the inventory of a Lichfield apothecary taken on
the 7th March 1655 lists ‘glasse bottles of all sortes’, their value of £3 probably
indicating they were full (Vaisey 1969, 101-102).
The glass assemblage from the North-East Tower had a more restricted number of
forms, a characteristic it shares with the ceramic vessels from the area (see above,
6.3.3.2). However, despite ceramic jugs being present in significant numbers the
majority of glass flasks were deposited along the North Wall, indicating ceramic vessels
were used for liquid transportation in preference to glass. One exception to this trend is
the kuttrolf, which was found largely near the North-East Tower, although some sherds
were also retrieved from trench K(C) on the North Wall.
The preference for glass vessels on the North Wall compared to the North-East Tower
suggests the assemblage from the North-East Tower was less concerned with
conspicuous consumption and was instead the result of more utilitarian tasks. This is
supported by a plan of the castle drawn in 1687, which shows the Great Hall being halfway along the East Wall and removed from the tower (MS Tanner 217, 45). Although a
room nearer to the tower is identified as a dining room, this may be a misnomer and its
size precludes it use for large communal consumption. The maintenance of divisions in
material consumption between different areas of the castle even during the Civil War is
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indicative of the need felt by garrisons to maintain ordinary life as much as possible,
even within unusual times.
6.4.3 Dating
Unlike other castles such as Montgomery, where the majority of glass vessels date to
the late 16th century, the vessels at Eccleshall predominantly date to the first half of the
17th century (Willmott 2002, 25). However, a significant number of vessels are forms
which pre-date the 17th century with one flask neck dating between 1200 and 1500
(Sheale 1993, 67-68, no. 233). Although the fragmentation of vessels makes it difficult
to gain an exact number of vessels, out of 231 identified vessels which could have been
conceivably in use in 1650, 218 were produced before 1625 (see fig. 6.12). This date
coincides with the virtual collapse of the domestic forest green glass industry due to
monopolies and legislation (Godfrey 1975, 103-134), and a smaller number, 32 vessels,
predate 1600. Given the domestic influences on glass production, the curation of a large
number of vessels produced before 1625 is unsurprising as the cessation in production
nearby meant the availability of glass fell, unlike pottery which continued to be
produced throughout the period.
Perhaps of greater significance is the termination of several glass forms coinciding with
the end of the Civil War, indicative of a national phenomenon of social change. Glass
lion mask stems diminish rapidly after the Civil War and despite being found on sites
demolished during the mid-17th century, including Basing, Baconsthorpe and
Montgomery (Charleston 1971, 63; Charleston 2002, 72; Knight 1994, 156), their
appearance in later deposits is extremely rare. One such exception is the four lion mask
stems recovered from Nonsuch Palace (Charleston 2005, 242-3), although a further
example from Berry Pomeroy Castle, Devon, is unfortunately unstratified (Allan 1996,
237). Therefore, the large-scale deposition of so many glass vessels indicates an
alteration in social policy, particularly when their destruction is attributed not to the
siege itself but the aftermath of the war and the politics this involved.
6.4.4 Origin of vessels
The majority of glass is of English manufacture, with many of the green glass vessels
probably being produced in the local area due to the proximity of the glassworks in
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north-west Staffordshire and their patronage by the bishops of Lichfield (Crossley 1967,
47). However, a number of clear glass vessels, including the lion mask and ladder stem
goblets (Sheale 1993, 22-24, nos.1 and 2; see fig. 6.9), were products of the London
glass industry and there is a single example of an unidentified vessel in black glass
which is the product of Haughton Green near Manchester (Hurst Vose 1994). The
variety of English sources for glass is to some extent unsurprising given the elevated
social status for glass and the necessity of importing clear glass such as goblets from
London or the Continent. However, a significant number of vessels were imported from
continental sources, highlighting the status of Eccleshall as an episcopal residence.
A minimum of seventeen, and a possible maximum of 22, vessels were imported from
countries including France, Germany and Italy (see table 6.7), with seven goblets, six
beakers, two bowls, a goblet lid and a kuttrolf represented. All the goblets and a
krautstrunk beaker (Sheale 1993, 109) date to the 16th century, when the English
industry could not supply demand, although the presence of so many vessels is also
indicative of the unsurpassable quality of imports compared to local products (Willmott
2002, 18). Some of the vessels, such as beaker 105/106, may have been
indistinguishable to consumers, differing only in the quality of their execution. However
others, such as the kuttrolf and two enamelled glass vessels, were clearly of higher
quality (see fig. 6.13). The contents of the kuttrolf, used for storing spirits, was also
more valuable than the wine or beer consumed in the majority of other vessels and the
container itself was a great rarity as, apart from London, no other examples have yet
been found in England (Sheale 1993, 78; Willmott 2002, 81). Although small, the
assemblage of imports is unsurpassed by sites in the local area and rivals other elite sites
in terms of status.
Unlike imported ceramic vessels, only one of which (a Surrey-Hampshire borderware
vessel) was associated with drinking (see above, 6.3.6), the majority of continental
imports are either drinking vessels (fourteen vessels including a goblet lid) or for liquid
transportation (one vessel). The disparity between the two material types is indicative of
the different roles held by the two material types at Eccleshall, with glass being
preferentially used for the conspicuous consumption of liquids.
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6.4.5 Comparison with other sites
Unlike Sandal and Pontefract, the glass assemblage at Eccleshall cannot be attributed to
its wartime garrison. There are instead two possible sources for the glass deposited
there: vessels already within the bishop’s household at the outbreak of war or vessels
deposited there for safety by local gentry. The latter suggestion is unlikely as Beeston in
Cheshire, also used for the storage of valuables, has a far more restricted range of glass
vessels with only a maximum of 30 identifiable fragments relating to a minimum of
thirteen vessels (Charleston 1993). In addition, glass never had a very high value
relative to other goods such as furniture or metal wares. Therefore, the abundance of
glass vessels at Eccleshall compared to other residences such as Pontefract and Sandal
is almost certainly due to its use as a permanent high-status residence immediately
before the conflict.
Parallels with the assemblage at Eccleshall can be seen at a number of elite households
active prior to the Civil War, including Montgomery Castle, Basing House and Dudley
Castle (see table 6.8). At Montgomery 91 vessels were identified of which
approximately 63 are recognizable vessels dating to the mid-17th century or earlier
(Lewis 1968, 147; Knight 1994, 153-161) whereas at Basing 34 vessels were identified
from the same period (Charleston 1971, 63-70). Although Dudley is unpublished, the
assemblage recovered from there includes goblets, beakers, flasks, case bottles and
urinals in addition to high decorative wrythen, latticino, coloured and painted vessels
(K. Banks pers. comm.).
The prevalence of drinking vessels at Eccleshall is supported by other sites, where they
form between a third and a half of all assemblages. For example, the drinking vessels at
Montgomery and Basing formed 41% and 38% of their respective assemblages (26 and
thirteen vessels). Although not associated with the Civil War, the mid-17th century
assemblage from Baconsthorpe Castle also shows striking similarities with Eccleshall,
with 45% of the assemblage being either goblets or beakers (six and four vessels
respectively). Like Eccleshall, a number of imports are also present, in particular a
pouring vessel in the form of a bird which originated in Venice (Charleston 2002, 6869).
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Non-elite sites associated with the Civil War also show glass vessels were
predominantly associated with drinking; at St Paul-in-the-Bail well, Lincoln, the entire
assemblage was directly connected with drinking, comprising of at least thirteen
beakers, 39 goblets, eight flasks or bottles, possible tazza fragments and a vase,
although there was some contamination with later material (Henderson 2005, 291-2;
Henderson and Mann 2008, 37)15. The dominance of drinking vessels at all sites where
glass is present should not be ignored but this supports suggestions that the assemblages
of urban sites tend to be focused on drinking equipment whereas elite sites have more
varied assemblages including a significant amount of material associated with the
presentation of food (Willmott 2002, 26).
Eccleshall is thus typical of many elite households dating to this period which contain
large amounts of glass associated with the consumption of both food and drink. This is
confirmed by a study of inventories and order books of the period. For example, the
household books of Lord William Howard of Naworth Castle lists the purchase of glass
vessels under ‘utensils and necessaries’, with four shillings being paid for 20 drinking
glasses in 1625 (Hartshorne 1968, 467). The inventory of Dame Dorothy Shirley of
Farringdon, Berkshire composed on 20th September 1620 listed four damask glass
cloths, a glass cupboard in the buttery for the probable storage of glass vessels, and in
her closet, ‘one case of glasses…wth divers other glasses, purslin stuffe, Chinie
stuffe’(Hartshorne 1968, 468). The combination of glasses with porcelain and china in
the Dame Shirley’s closet indicates that glass shared a similar social value with
porcelain and Chinese imports.
The assemblage from Stafford Castle, another partially ruined castle reoccupied by
Royalists, is comparative with the bishop’s palace in terms of status (Darlington and
Soden 2007, 223-225). The small assemblage contains a minimum of two goblets, one
of medieval date, one narrow-necked jug, two urinals, three beakers, two bowls, two
lids and a dish (Cocroft 2007)16. Significantly only five vessels (35% of the assemblage)
15
The report conflates glass dating before 1650 with vessels from later periods, creating difficulties in
definitive counts.
16
The identification of some vessels varies from those in the report.
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are identified as forest green glass, despite its dominance at nearby Eccleshall. This
suggests the number of local vessels at Eccleshall may be due to the episcopal patronage
of local industry rather than economic restrictions. Therefore, the consumption of glass
at Eccleshall is complex, reflecting not just the wealth of its inhabitants but also their
influence within the local community.
Significantly there are few examples of large-scale glass disposal not associated with
the Civil War, notable exceptions being West Bromwich Manor, deposited when the
moat was levelled around the end of the 17th century (Hodder 1988-1989, 38), Nonsuch
Palace, largely deposited between 1665 and 1666 (Biddle 2005, 1; Charleston 2005) and
Temple Balsall, an early 18th-century cellar deposit (Gooder 1984). Therefore, although
West Bromwich is associated with the late rather than mid-17th century, the Eccleshall
assemblage is part of a wider phase of mass glass disposal.
6.5
Other items associated with food and drink
Whilst it is highly likely material culture such as knives are present within the
excavation archive, these have yet to be analysed. As a result, there are only two items
which can be firmly associated with the consumption of food and drink at site: a cheese
strainer and a wooden bowl.
The near-complete copper alloy strainer from an unknown location (fig. 6.14) was used
in the production of cheese. Artefacts like these are relatively common, other examples
include a copper alloy strainer retrieved Sandal (see below, 7.6) and a ceramic strainer
from the non-Civil War site of West Bromwich Manor (Hodder 1991-1992, 23). Its
presence at Eccleshall is hardly surprising given the sites pre-war status as an active
household performing a whole range of domestic tasks, including cheese production.
A wooden bowl was also found in trench K (D) according the site notes (Eccleshall
archive unpublished). The find indicates how even at a high status site such as
Eccleshall, seemingly low status objects as wooden implements were still important.
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6.6
Evidence of foodstuffs
Seeds and animal bone were retrieved by the excavators but, due to the unstratified
nature of the deposits, it is impossible to link these with phases of occupation. A report
on the faunal remains has been compiled and is contained within the excavation archive
(Eccleshall archive unpublished). Although the majority of remains were retrieved from
Trench K along the North Wall this may be due to selective sampling rather than
deposition practices (Eccleshall archive unpublished). Trench J was of particular
interest as it contained six pig mandibles and thirteen maxilla which had butchery marks
interpreted as part of the production of brawn, a popular English dish during the early
post-medieval period (Eccleshall archive unpublished). However, the lack of
stratigraphy and sampling of the material means it is difficult to draw meaningful
conclusions from this assemblage.
Documentary evidence indicates the importance of cheese to the garrison as in March
1645 John Buckley supplied 110 old cheeses belonging to Brereton from Eccleshall as
part of a large shipment of 1141 cheeses intended for Parliamentarian use (Dore 1984,
71-72). The substantial amount of cheese conveyed to Eccleshall indicates the large
amounts of food present within the castle. Furthermore, as the cheese is listed by
Brereton as part of a select group of 495 cheeses labelled as ‘mine own’ (Dore 1984,
71), it is important to see the contents of the house as Brereton’s own personal
belongings as opposed to the wider Parliamentarian community. Eccleshall’s role as a
supplier of foodstuffs is confirmed by a note from Christmas Eve 1645 in which beef
from the castle was sent to those besieging Chester (Dore 1990, 430-431). This
evidence emphasises the need to see Eccleshall as a garrison embedded within a
network of local and national alliances rather than as an isolated residence.
6.7
Holistic interpretation of material culture
The social importance of the destruction of material culture during the Civil War is
clearly highlighted by the Eccleshall assemblage. As stated above (see above, 6.4.5), the
quality and volume of the assemblage, particularly given the small area excavated, is
demonstrative of Eccleshall’s wealth and symbolism as the palace of the Bishops of
Lichfield and Coventry rather than its use as a store during the Civil War. In addition to
desirable objects such as Dutch and Chinese ceramic imports, the large number of glass
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vessels of national and Continental origin is indicative of the variety of exotic goods
purchased by the bishops for their household. They formed part of the elite identity of
the palace which Sir William Brereton was so eager to own, not only for its rich
furnishings but as an important building in its own right.
The maintenance of Eccleshall as an elite residence throughout the conflict is visible in
both the historical and archaeological record. The restriction in forms, with vessels
predominantly associated with the preparation and serving of food and drink rather than
its storage, suggests that unlike Sandal where traditional barriers between food tasks
became blurred due to the necessities of siege warfare, at Eccleshall these were
maintained with foodstuffs stored in areas completely separate from zones of
consumption. The contrast between Eccleshall and the Yorkshire garrison suggests that,
wherever possible, peacetime regimes of food preparation and consumption were
maintained, only altering when placed under extreme pressure.
The importance of Eccleshall to Sir William Brereton is reflected in its adoption as his
main residence, described as ‘the only receptacle and refuge which I have in that county
to secure the remainder of my goods and my children and servants’ (Dore 1984, 187;
see also Dore 1990, 126). The mention of children and servants indicates this was very
much a family residence, unsurprising given the fact that two of his other residences had
been captured by the Royalists and another was threatened by them (Dore 1990, 58).
However, his attempt to retain Eccleshall at the end of the first Civil War and his
subsequent purchase of the bishop’s palace at Croydon (Morrill 1985, 319; Dore 1990,
58) also suggests a deliberate alignment with powerful symbols of religious authority.
His maintenance of the residence, despite strong opposition by local commanders which
culminated in their removal to Eccleshall in December 1644, indicates the importance
Brereton placed upon Eccleshall as a symbol of his authority within the area (Hamilton
1890, 173; Dore 1984, 18).
Its status as an elite residence may be the reason why Eccleshall was chosen as the
refuge for sympathetic nobility and upon its capture was deemed to be a suitable prison
for prominent Royalists and their servants. A list of prisoners in Nantwich in March
1645 lists six men relocated to Eccleshall Castle: Lt. Col. Owen, Major Grey, Sir John
Weld senior, Sir John Weld junior, Sir Thomas Whitmore and Sir Richard Lee (Dore
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1984, 84). Significantly, unlike prisoners sent elsewhere or retained in Nantwich, all the
above are either knighted or hold a senior military rank, suggesting Eccleshall was
retained as a prison for the Royalist elite. A list of prisoners within the castle on 26th
March 1645 lists these men along with nine others, only one of which, Corporal John
Rubone, is neither a knight nor possessing a rank higher than captain. The list also
includes ‘the servants of Lord Brereton17, Sir Tho. Tyldesley, Sir Rich. Lee, Sir Tho.
Whitmore, Sir John Wylde’ and others are recording as having a servant, indicating that
some level of gentility was still maintained (Dore 1984, 121-2; Greenslade 2006, 99,
103).
Despite the protestations of some prisoners who complained that ‘our accommodation is
soe untoward at present that we have scarce philosophy enough to undergoe it’ (HMC
4th Report, 70), in comparison to other prisons captives at Eccleshall were held in
comparative luxury. For example, during the siege of Lichfield its Royalist commander
Sir Thomas Tyldesley, imprisoned at Eccleshall from November 1644 until October
1645, passed on his regards to the Parliamentarian lawyer John Birch and thanked him
‘for his civil visits to me when I was in Eccleshall’ (Carr and Atherton 2007, 257).
Furthermore, when referring to Captain Henry Stone, the commander of the garrison at
Eccleshall, Tyldesey writes ‘I wish it were in my power to declare my love to you,
which should be performed in the highest way to dissuade you from the course you are
in. But as you told me in Eccleshall Castle we have fought too long now to dispute’
(Carr and Atherton 2007, 126). The comparative amicability from an erstwhile captive
to his captor strongly suggests that strict rules of hospitality were observed. Not all
prisoners were treated in such luxury. For example, Nathaniel Grey was held at
Eccleshall from March 1645 and claimed that Brereton had starved him with near-fatal
results (Carr and Atherton 2007, 205). Despite this isolated example, the documentation
associated with Eccleshall suggests that the material culture present within the castle is
indicative of the role it played in the maintenance of social etiquette even between
supposed enemies.
17
Not to be confused with Sir William Brereton, William, Lord Brereton was the head of the senior
Brereton line and fought for the Royalists (Dore 1984, 122).
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If the material culture present at the site is suggestive of an elite residence which
enjoyed a peacetime environment, even in the midst of war, the destruction of this
assemblage in what appears to be a single catastrophic event requires an explanation. It
would be easy to conflate the destruction of material culture with the puritanical beliefs
of Sir William Brereton, known for his suppression of alehouses and his campaign for
religious reform in the years immediately preceding the war (Morrill 1985, 312, 315).
He spoke in favour of the iconoclasm at Lichfield Cathedral, seeing it as the symbol of
previous superstitions beliefs (Morrill 1985, 319), and his wife was personally
responsible for the destruction of windows in the church at Weston-under-Lizard (Carr
and Atherton 2007, 13). Having been denied Eccleshall, Brereton also occupied the
archiepiscopal palace at Croydon from the late 1640s (Morrill 1985, 319), supposedly
converting the bishop’s chapel into a kitchen (Anon 1660, 3). However, although
Brereton was a puritan, his beliefs did not evidently extend to all aspects of material
culture. Amongst the goods retained for his use following the seizure of Lady
Grosvenor’s House during the fall of Royalist Chester are ‘16 Venice glasses’ valued at
10s 6d and ‘four bottles with syrup of gillyflowers and several glasses’ (Carr and
Atherton 2007, 295). Furthermore, during his travels in the Netherlands between 1634
and 1635 he made purchases of 200 stove tiles, paintings and gilt, and painted door
knobs, demonstrating he was partial to the luxuries of life (Brereton 1844, 59-60).
Therefore, the destruction of material culture at Eccleshall cannot be attributed to
puritanical beliefs alone, but is instead part of a more complex pattern of destruction
practiced at many sites after the conflict.
One explanation for the material deposited can be seen through the significant number
of antiquated glass and ceramic vessels present. Although both ceramic and glass
vessels produced before 1625 had been curated until the Civil War, the period after the
conflict witnessed their large-scale destruction. Although many styles of glass may not
have been considered antiquated, their disposal at this point of time suggests a change in
social discourse marked by the Civil War which is not restricted to Eccleshall castle. As
a phenomenon at many castle sites, this is a feature which deserves greater examination
(see below, 9.6).
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6.8
Conclusion
The assemblage at Eccleshall encapsulates the material culture of an elite household
during the mid-17th century. The emphasis on conspicuous consumption, particularly in
the form of exotic imports and high quality glassware, indicates the important role it
played both before and during the Civil War. The differentiation of assemblages from
the North Wall and North-East Tower indicates how separate areas of consumption
were successfully maintained at Eccleshall, unlike other castles such as Sandal where
such divisions broke down partially or completely. However, its maintenance
throughout the Civil War is in sharp contrast to its destruction immediately after the
conflict, a process which demands further investigation.
As noted above (see 6.7), it is not enough to draw simplistic conclusions concerning the
mass destruction of wealth. It has been suggested that the Puritans conflated glass with
Royalists and Catholic extravagance (Thorpe 1961, 135). Certainly Bishop Wren was
the antithesis of the puritan ideal of a church leader, approving of bear-baiting and the
sale of meat on a Sunday (Davies 1992, 203). However, the destruction of the
Eccleshall assemblage cannot be seen as a puritanical act; Cromwell was well-known
for stating that the notion of preventing drunkenness by banning the import of wine was
ridiculous (Hill 1970, 198). Drinking cultures may have been adopted as part of the
identity of a particular group, such as the stereotypical Cavalier (see below, 9.5.1.1), but
the flexibility of material culture means its meaning changes according to the different
social discourse in which it participates. By considering the assemblages at all sites
during the conflict it is possible to appreciate the complexities which lay behind the use
and destruction of vessels.
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7
7.1
Sandal
Introduction
Located above a crossing of the river Calder, four miles south-west of Wakefield (OS
Grid reference SE3362618190), Sandal was fortified for the King during the Civil War
and withstood periodic sieges until sustained bombardment forced the garrison to
surrender on 30th September 1645. The material culture from the castle represents one
of the largest assemblages directly associated with the Civil War and an unparalleled
opportunity to evaluate the social discourse of conflict over an entire site.
From a purely militaristic standpoint, the strength of Sandal as a fortification is
questionable. It was virtually uninhabited prior to the conflict, its crumbling fabric made
a prolonged defence impossible and it was not located near a strategic settlement or
route of communication. Only through understanding the biography of the castle is it
possible to appreciate the reasons for its fortification, demonstrating the important role
played by the past during the conflict. Analysing the artefacts deposited at this site
within this social context leads to important insights into the role tradition played in
maintaining a precarious garrison in the face of inevitable defeat.
7.2
Brief history of the site and excavations
Originally a motte-and-bailey constructed during the 12th century, Sandal was modified
throughout the medieval period, including extensive renovations ordered by Richard III
as part of a plan to use the castle as the seat of the Council of the North. The castle was
sparsely occupied throughout the 16th century and after 1603, when the records of the
castle were moved to Wakefield, the castle had no major political role (Butler 1983a, 36).
At the outbreak of war the castle was garrisoned for the king by Major Thomas
Beaumount, although the first commander of the castle broke his neck whilst
descending from ‘the house of office’ (Walker 1895, 181). The garrison was
subsequently encircled for several months during 1645 until April, when the garrison
attacked the besieging Parliamentarians and caused them to retreat (Heylyn 1645b,
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1557-1558). After this event, the castle was unthreatened until the surrender of
Pontefract on July 20th 1645. This left Sandal as the sole surviving Royalist garrison in
the area until it too capitulated to the Parliamentarians the following September.
Limited investigations in the late 19th century were followed by an extensive excavation
from 1964 to 1973 conducted by the Sandal Excavation Committee and volunteers,
concentrating on a different area each season (Walker 1895; Mayes and Butler 1983, 1;
see fig. 7.2). The excavations were subsequently published (Mayes and Butler 1983)
and the site archive is now stored with Wakefield Museums Service.
7.3
Sandal Castle: a social stronghold
Sandal Castle was described by royal surveyors in 1562 as the principal defence against
a possible Yorkshire rebellion (Colvin 1968, 232). However, several surveys conducted
between 1538 and 1566 into the condition of the castle and its fabric suggest that whilst
the Constable’s Lodgings and Kitchens were in good condition the rest of the castle was
in decline, with several buildings missing both roof and floors (see table 7.1). The
buildings surrounding the Great Hall in the east of the castle suffered the most, by 1538
these were largely decayed and one corner of the building suffered from subsidence.
Therefore, it is unsurprising that it was this area which was reinforced by a Royalist
battery, albeit one lacking ‘sophisticated planning’ (Butler 1983b, 80).
The New Tower, rebuilt as part of the 1484-5 renovations, is typical of much of the
castle at the beginning of the conflict, possessing upstanding walls but no surviving
internal partitions. The recording of a large breach in the Keep wall in the 1564 survey,
and the fact that the 1545-6 survey mentions that only three of the towers were
inhabitable, with ‘the leade of one of them being allredy downe and the others standing
untiled’ suggests that by the late 16th century much of the Keep was in serious decline.
This dilapidation is supported by a thin wall running north-west to south-east within the
interior of the Keep, associated with the infilling of nearby areas MF and MH and
originally dated to the renovations of 1484 (Mayes 1983, 45-6). However, the material
deposited within MF and MH proved date from the 17th, rather than the 15th, century
including several blackware vessels with Wrenthorpe handles (e.g. SAND809, 810,
844). The Keep was described in 1564 as being ‘in good repayre saviunge that there is a
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great rifte or breache in the wall’ and it is conceivable that this wall was constructed as
an emergency barricade during the Civil War as a response to this gap in the castle’s
defences (PRO, DL 44/114 cited in Mayes and Butler 1983, 20).
Given the state of these buildings, it is surprising that the castle was given such strategic
importance. In addition to its description in 1562 as being the mainstay of the county’s
defence the castle was described in 1565 as having ‘no refuge nere adjoining to the
same’, despite the far stronger Pontefract being within ten miles (PRO, DL 44/114 cited
in Mayes and Butler 1983, 21). By 1592 the castle was described as being ‘very ruynous
and in greater decay than th’other of our castles are’ (PRO, DL42/98 f.207 cited in
Colvin et al. 1975, 181) and its relative weakness can be seen through the delay taken in
bringing it under serious siege as, apart from minor incursions, the Parliamentarian
forces concentrated on seizing the greater threat of Pontefract before focussing on the
minor concern of Sandal (Walker 1895, 184). Its proximity to Wakefield did not prevent
the seizing of the town in May 1643 in an event described as ‘the greatest losse that hath
befallen His Majestie in the North’ (Heylyn 1643d). Therefore, military strength alone
cannot be used as a reason for the adoption of the castle as a Royalist garrison.
However, the importance of Sandal becomes more apparent when the history of the site
is considered, particularly its role during the Wars of the Roses. On the 30 th December
1460, Richard, Duke of York, having been surrounded for several days by Lancastrian
forces, led his troops out of the castle to fight the opposition in the Battle of Wakefield.
In the ensuing battle, the Yorkist forces were routed and the duke and his son Edmund,
Earl of Rutland were killed (Haigh 1995, 31-37). 24 years later the duke’s son, Richard
III, acceded to the throne and in June 1484 ordered the construction of a new tower in
the Keep, with a bakehouse and brewhouse subsequently authorised in October 1484
(Ross 1981, 182). This renovation is clearly linked to Richard’s selection of Sandal as
the base for the Council of the North, responsible for the administration of a significant
area of the country (Ross 1981, 143). Although the Council continued to hold its
sessions at York, the use of Sandal as the symbolic northern seat of power cannot be
ignored, particularly as its neighbour Pontefract, along with many other castles in
Yorkshire, overshadowed it in terms of both size and grandeur.
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As a result, the selection of the castle as a Civil War fortification must be associated
with its past history as the site of the death of Richard’s father and brother, which
permanently associated the castle both as a Yorkist icon and symbol of the struggle for
the crown. The event was further memorialised by Richard’s brother and predecessor
Edward IV, who erected a memorial cross at the site of their father’s death. The lasting
impression the battle had on the local population is further demonstrated by the
maintenance of this memorial by nearby inhabitants until its destruction by the
Parliamentarian army during the English Civil War (Haigh 1995, 39).
The period 1641-43 saw fifteen large published works dedicated to the Wars of the
Roses (Adamson 1990, 95), and the events of the battle were recounted by William
Shakespeare in Henry VI, Part 3. These publications, along with the subsequent
destruction of the monument by Parliamentary forces, inextricably linked Sandal with
the crown in the national consciousness. Consequently, when the history of the site is
taken into consideration, the selection of Sandal as a Royalist garrison is logical as an
iconic site of great significance. The soldiers who fortified Sandal were not fortifying a
crumbling ruin of dubious strength. They were instead fortifying a building
synonymous with the struggle for the crown and, moreover, one which had been
endowed by one king and memorialised by another. Although not a stronghold in a
military sense, Sandal can be seen as a social stronghold which encapsulated the
struggle which was now to be relived inside its walls. It is within this context that the
material culture consumed at the site should be analysed.
7.4
The pottery
In total 5,552 sherds were analysed representing an estimated 3,023 vessels and
weighing a total of 10,4387g (see table 7.2). An estimated 2,028 vessels are not residual
from pre-Civil War contexts and of these 384 vessels are at least 5% complete. The
extensive excavations conducted at the castle are reflected in these 384 being on
average 24% complete. Factors preventing an even higher vessel completion figure
include the shallow depth of some deposits, Victorian excavations and the emptying of
the inner and outer ditches by mechanical excavator (Stubbes and Butler 1971, 2).
Although shallow deposits and the lack of single contexts prevent the vertical analysis
of material, the comprehensive nature of the excavation enables a two dimensional
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distribution analysis to be undertaken focussing on the different locales of social
discourse within the castle. However, before this can be achieved it is first necessary to
address difficulties arising from the original interpretation of the site.
7.4.1 The original analysis: reconfiguring the figures.
The distribution of vessels at Sandal castle as presented within the original report is
confusing (Brears 1983). Although there is a plan of vessel distribution (Brears 1983,
223, fig. 98) this does not correlate with the list of vessels identified within the
excavation (Brears 1983, 219, Table 15). Comparing the original figure (fig. 7.3) with
the distribution of vessels as presented in this table (fig. 7.4) demonstrates the
difficulties of interpreting the original material as there are clear disparities between the
two. Even allowing for fourteen vessels which are not illustrated, and thus impossible to
identify, this leaves a disparity of 127 vessels listed in the original table compared to
116 illustrated on the original plan.
Furthermore, although some of the areas show a broadly similar number of vessels in
both calculations, for example the kitchen and Great Hall (areas D and K), in other areas
there is a greater disparity. For example, building AA near the main drawbridge
contains two small storage vessels and a drinking vessel on Brears’ plan, yet the
illustrated examples consists of two dishes, a fine handled jar, a jug, a costrel and one
unillustrated vessel. The motte had a similar discrepancy, with no vessels listed within
the slit trench MK, although the vessels from MW, currently with no location, may in
fact be from this area. The problems in interpretation are compounded by the fact that
many of the illustrated examples are not always from the areas stated within the original
table. For example, the vessel depicted as figure 95.81 (Brears 1983, 220) is listed as
originating from building C (the stable) but the illustrated vessel (SAND1) is marked
with BDA1. In total, out of 31 possible comparisons, fourteen vessels are from areas
which differ from those identified in the original analysis. With limited documentation
it is impossible to resolve this conflict satisfactorily and as a result the markings on the
vessels are used instead of their location as given within the original report. These are
likely to be more accurate, being taken directly from the vessels themselves rather than
from secondary analysis.
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In addition to difficulties in identifying the location of vessels there are also problems
with the original phasing of the site, as the abolition of contexts and the consequent use
of phases has created divisions that may not reflect the archaeology accurately. For
example, BDA1 is assigned to phase 1, as opposed to phase +; thereby supposedly
dating to the 16th-century occupation of the castle rather than the Civil War. However,
at least one vessel from this phase illustrated within the original report (Brears 1983,
220, fig. 95.81) is clearly a blackware vessel dating to the 17th century and is thus
associated with the Civil War occupation. As a result, a new distribution of vessels has
been produced which utilises all material contemporary with the Civil War and analyses
it on the basis of the location marked on the vessels themselves, the first time this
approach has been undertaken.
7.4.1.1 Distribution of vessels, a reinterpretation
The new plan utilises all vessels more than 15% complete in order to produce a plan
comparable to those in the original report (fig. 7.5). Although the original plan selected
vessels through an estimate of completion rather than a fixed percentage (P. Brears pers.
comm.) this figure was chosen as a method of selecting a comparable number of vessels
to the original distribution whilst at the same time negating bias towards a particular
vessel type.
The distribution of the 132 vessels selected18 highlight many areas in which the
assemblage diverges from that portrayed in the original report, the key differences
being:
1. Compared to previous plans, pancheons are underrepresented. This is partially
due to the omission of six vessels that were from more than one context.
However, only one of these (SAND1441) originates from the areas surrounding
AA, Q, P and R, an area where these vessels were concentrated previously, so
the absence of vessels from this area is genuine. Similarly only one pancheon
18
Although 166 vessels are more than 15% complete, 13 were omitted as unidentified vessels and a
further 21 vessels which matched across contexts were also omitted.
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more than 15% complete was recovered from the barbican ditch (SAND1445),
despite four vessels being depicted here in the original distribution plans.
One possible reason for this might be the general underrepresentation of larger
vessels due to fragmentation. The size of vessel such as pancheons means they
produce more fragments when broken than smaller vessels such as drinking
vessels. This means a much larger number of fragments are required to gain a
given percentage and large vessels are thus more likely to be more incomplete
than smaller vessels. However, when the figures are adjusted to make
allowances for this, with the addition of 20 bowl or pancheons and larger storage
vessels which are at least 5% complete19 (fig. 7.6), the resultant plan
demonstrates that bowl/pancheons are still absent from many of the areas where
they were originally depicted. In addition, largely complete vessels, such as
small storage jar SAND1097, are omitted from the original plan, suggesting that
this was highly selective of the material depicted.
2. Several areas not shown on the original plans have a substantial amount of
material worthy of discussion, most notably the area outside the northern tower
of the Keep, MDX. These areas have a large amount of material which, despite
being omitted from the original plans, is highly informative of the discard
patterns at the site. The external concentration of vessels was also noted at
Dudley, where the assemblage was interpreted as material thrown out of the
windows and top of the motte (Ratkai 1985, n.p.), and it would appear a similar
practice was conducted at Sandal. The amount of material deposited within
these areas indicates the quantity of artefacts which might have been lost during
excavation, when areas such as the inner ditch were subject to “rapid clearance
by bulldozer…[to]…enable the Civil War destruction to be removed without
any loss of archaeological levels” (Stubbes and Butler 1971, 2). The
classification of the Civil War as archaeologically irrelevant has caused
significant omissions that need to be noted when considering the assemblage.
As a result the claim of ‘87 identifiable cups, 15 costrels, 16 cooking vessels, 31
19
A further two were omitted as they were joined across areas.
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bowls, 19 storage jars, 3 skillets, 22 small alborellos [sic] or ointment/preserve
jars and 16 chamber pots’ (Brears 1983, 219) is far from definitive, as the
fragmentation and distribution of vessels means that only an estimate can be
used when analysing the assemblage.
3. The new distribution plan also highlights the presence of small storage jars at
the site with high densities in most areas, particularly the motte. This number is
in sharp contrast to other castles such as the Constable Tower at Pontefract (see
below, 8.4.7.1). Despite being absent from area AA, where they were present in
Brears’ original distribution (fig. 7.3), a similar number of small storage jars
were present in area AB, supporting the conclusion this area is located in the
vicinity of AA and AC.
Despite these differences there are some similarities between the original and revised
distributions, especially the concentration of vessels within the southern area of the
castle surrounding the workshop (code SC65). Unfortunately less definition could be
given to the distribution of these vessels in the revised plan as, rather than possessing a
specific area code, almost all vessels from the area were labelled SC65.
7.4.1.2 Lack of material within the Barbican ditch
One feature of all plans, which contrasts strongly with the concentration of vessels
deposited there during the medieval period, is the paucity of vessels within the barbican
ditch (Moorhouse 1983a, 172, fig. 64). An examination of the section across occupied
levels, most notably the section across the workshop and barbican ditch (Mayes 1983,
facing p.64 (1), fig. 32.20), indicates that the depth of deposits is approximately
equivalent across the site. This means that the lack of finds in the barbican ditch
compared to other areas is genuine, particularly as levelling the site would result in a
reduction in the vessel count of the raised areas, as opposed to the ditch.
A possible explanation for this is vessels represent individual companies of men eating
at their posts around the walls, rather than being stationed within the centre of the castle
(Brears 1983, 224). However, this assumes that the castle was in a permanent state of
alert and this is unlikely as Sandal was not threatened until the final few months of
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occupation (see above, 7.2). An alternative explanation is the shallow nature of the ditch
by 1645, having been filled by debris over previous centuries. This would have resulted
in a shallow depression unsuitable for large deposits of material when compared to the
foundations and floors of the buildings due for demolition. The extent to which
demolition practices spread material throughout the castle can be judged through an
analysis of joining sherds which are deposited in different contexts.
7.4.2 Cross-matching sherds
44 vessels at Sandal could be matched across non-adjacent contexts although one,
SAND914, cannot be linked to a specific area as the location of MA is unrecorded. A
further seven vessels originated from adjoining areas, for example SAND134 was
recovered from barbican ditch areas BDB and BDC. As these probably resulted from
variations in excavation practice, as opposed to a genuine dispersal of the vessel, these
were discounted from analysis.
The resulting distribution (fig. 7.7) demonstrates that the majority of cross-matching
sherds join with sherds in nearby areas. This is most evident in the area surrounding the
Great Hall (area K20) and adjoining lodging chamber (area J). The number of sherds that
cross-match across the site is relatively small given the extent of the excavations and
suggests that the vast majority of vessels were deposited in the same area with little
transportation of material around the site. This is particularly evident in the area
surrounding the workshop (SC65), where there are only two sherds which join to sherds
anywhere on the site: SAND1613, matching a sherd from near the motte drawbridge
(MJ) and SAND1615, which joins a sherd from the barbican ditch (KDN). Therefore,
this assemblage appears to be a closely related deposit, although it should be noted that
the different buildings within this area were all given the same code during postexcavation.
20
This identification is contrary to other reports which identify K as being the ‘Keep’ (Boyle 2006, 185).
However, all material from the motte is preceded by ‘M’ and the correlation of K with the Great Hall
coincides with the area codes for the site. No other codes can be identified with this area, despite the
original analysis clearly showing vessels originating from this area (see fig.7.1).
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Compared to other areas, the motte has a much higher number of cross-matching sherds,
both within the building and on the northern slopes of the motte (MDX). However,
within the Keep there does appear to be some separation of vessels, with no vessel from
the south-west area of the Keep (MF) joining with the northern tower and surrounding
area (MD and MDX). This would suggest that the deposits overlying the motte were not
homogenous and are instead related to the destruction of vessels within the vicinity of
each area.
The low number of sherds which join across the site (rather than between adjacent
areas) supports the supposition that artefacts at Sandal were deposited close to where
they were broken, with little transportation of vessels. As a result assemblages from
different areas of the castle can be compared with each other to allow greater insight
into the social discourse of the Civil War.
7.4.3 Vessel analysis by form
The original analysis of the ceramics suggested that assemblages within Sandal were
uniform, comprising of drinking vessels, a costrel, storage vessels, small storage
vessels, a bowl ‘and always the inevitable chamber pot’ (Brears 1983, 224). However,
analysis of the distribution of identifiable vessels suggests that there is a large degree of
differentiation between each of the areas. Across the entire castle (fig. 7.8) there are a
high number of drinking vessels with 127 vessels (43% of the assemblage) represented.
There are also a surprisingly large number of small storage vessels, (42 vessels forming
14% of the assemblage) and a comparatively small number of heavy duty storage
vessels (27, 9%). This ratio of small storage vessels to heavy duty storage vessels is
surprisingly high as at a number of other sites, including Pontefract and Beeston Castle,
the latter heavily outnumbers the former (see below, 8.4.7.1 for Pontefract; Noake 1993,
191 for Beeston). This has important implications when considering the role the
garrison played during the course of the Civil War.
Given the nature of the castle’s capitulation and subsequent analysis by Brears it might
be assumed that Sandal was fully prepared for long-term occupation. However,
although there is some evidence of this at the site, with the use of the forge and presence
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of cheese-producing equipment such as a strainer (see below, 6.5), the proportion of
small to heavy duty storage vessels means there is little evidence of the garrison being
prepared for a protracted siege. Although the castle was so ruinous that it surrendered as
soon as the full force of the Parliamentarian arsenal was employed, the previous lack of
artillery meant it still had the potential to survive a protracted period of encirclement in
which few shots were fired. However, the lack of large storage vessels containing the
substantial volume of stores needed to sustain a long-term garrison suggest the castle
was never intended to survive a siege for a long-period of time. Although contemporary
accounts of the castle suggest there were plentiful supplies of both food and shot when
the garrison surrendered (Coe 1645) this may simply have been Parliamentarian
propaganda and the role of Sandal was probably one of support rather than major longterm threat.
Despite this general trend within the site there are significant differences between
various areas, reflecting the diversity of social discourse at the castle. These are
discussed in detail below in conjunction with the rest of the material culture from the
site (see below, 7.8).
7.4.4 Sooted vessels
A total of 60 vessels display evidence of sooting, although of these 20 were burnt after
use, as indicated by sooting across the breaks of individual sherds. 32 vessels were at
least 5% complete and despite the difficulties in identifying sooted vessels (see above,
5.3.10) they give some indication of the range of vessels employed in cooking. Initial
analysis of the 22 identifiable vessels which were at least 5% complete and had been
sooted before disposal (fig. 7.9) suggests a large range of vessels were exposed to heat
during their lifetime, although there is a particular concentration of food preparation and
cooking vessels. Analysing the vessels by area (fig. 7.10) indicates that across the site
the range of vessels used varied. Sooted cooking vessels are distributed throughout the
site apart from the Great Hall and Constable’s Lodgings and the motte is particularly
remarkable for the variability of sooted vessels; these include two vessels found with
the remains of a meal (SAND1710 and 1711).
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This dining assemblage is described in the report as a ‘pair of cooking vessels, their
bases lightly burnt...found by the side of a number of bones and a small fire built amid
the bombardment rubble in the centre of the Keep (area MH). Here they had been
crushed by falling masonry, the defenders apparently being unable to remove their meal
in the heat of action’ (Brears 1983, 224). On closer examination the two ‘cooking
vessels’ are almost certainly a fine handled jar (SAND1710) and a fineware jug
(SAND1711) with the spout missing which have been used as improvised containers21.
Although animal remains were also found alongside the ceramics these are not
unidentified within the report and, as all bones from the castle have since been disposed
of, their identification may forever remain a mystery22. However, the presence of animal
bones alongside these two vessels in particular, is indicative of the shortage of metal
and ceramic cooking vessels during the siege and the appropriation of suitably large
vessels for the preparation of meals. Although there is evidence for larger cooking
vessels, such as cauldrons, being employed elsewhere in the castle (see below, 6.5), the
improvised use of fineware vessels in this particular location, isolated as it is from the
rest of the garrison, suggests that the men stationed on the motte were separated from
the main cooking facilities within the castle during the final days of the bombardment.
In addition, the reduced size of these vessels in comparison to far larger artefacts such
as cauldrons highlights the compact inhabitation within the Keep, with only a small
number of men being able to participate in the communal consumption facilitated by
this dining assemblage. As well as presenting a unique insight into dining amidst the
ruins of combat, it also demonstrates the claustrophobic nature of consumption within
this part of the castle, with a low number of people inhabiting an extremely stressful
environment.
7.4.5 Local identities
It has been suggested that when the castle was reoccupied for the Civil War the pottery
required for the garrison was purchased in bulk from the local production site at
21
There is a distinct difference between this jug and the medieval jug from Eccleshall which also displays
evidence of sooting (ECC88). This is of a much coarser fabric than SAND1710 and thus was more suited
for culinary purposes.
22
An education resource pack for Sandal identifies the bones as chicken, but this is unsubstantiated.
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Wrenthorpe, (Brears 1983, 219). However, of the 127 drinking vessels which are at
least 5% complete only two thirds are blackware, 27 (21%) being Cistercian ware and a
further eleven (34.2%) are transitional Cistercian to blackware forms (see fig. 7.11).
Transitional forms were produced at Wrenthorpe until the first quarter of the 17th
century at the very latest (Boyle 2006, 211-212) and, as the vessels from Sandal are on
average 34% complete, compared to 22.31% for blackware vessels, the presence of
these vessels is not due to residuality (see table 7.3). Although Cistercian wares are on
average only 16% complete, this is still relatively high and includes early decorated
forms such as a type 4 cup, SAND1313, recovered from the kitchen area (D). However,
there are no Midlands purple vessels which are contemporary with Cistercian wares
and, unlike Pontefract (see below, 8.4.4), late Humberwares and other late medieval
forms are also absent. Some early yellow wares are present, not least two salts
(SAND647 and 648), although other vessels can only be tentatively identified as
separating early and fully developed yellow wares is notoriously difficult (Moorhouse
and Slowikowski 1992, 95). The presence of Cistercian and transitional vessels
alongside the absence of other outmoded fabrics suggests their presence within the Civil
War assemblage is far from accidental. Their prominence in social drinking highlights
the significance tradition played in such practices, a phenomenon which will be
discussed in greater detail below (see below, 9.5.1). The absence of tin-glazed
earthenware, with only one small sherd of manganese mottled ware (SAND151), and
fragments of just three slipware vessels, two from the motte (area MA, SAND917 and
1601) and one from the barbican ditch (SAND1600), emphasises the lack of
contemporary fashionable materials. Slipware was in common production by the mid17th century and tin-glazed earthenware had a flourishing production in continental
Europe and certain English towns, including London and Norwich (Barker 1993, 11;
Draper 2001, 26). Although they comprise only a small element of other assemblages,
including Pontefract and Eccleshall, the lack of these artefacts at Sandal is significant. It
suggests that either those responsible for the removal of goods from the castle placed a
greater importance on slipware and tin-glazed artefacts than those at other castles, or
that they were never present in significant numbers in the first place. The presence of
other unusual objects, such as a limited number of imported vessels (see below, 7.4.6),
suggests the latter explanation is more likely. Therefore, the Sandal assemblage
suggests a garrison both physically and psychologically firmly embedded within a local,
rather than national, identity.
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The diversity in both date and type within the assemblage at Sandal suggests the
procurement of ceramics at the castle was far more complex than a single bulk order.
This is confirmed by historical evidence elsewhere; at Great Chalfield, for example,
ceramic purchases were made piecemeal, such as an individual jug or a few dishes,
rather than as a bulk order (Pafford 1940, 72; see table 3.1). Although garrisons often
fared better than marching armies the local area and its inhabitants were required to
supplement their diet as supply trains, particularly those belonging to the King towards
the end of the war, were notoriously unreliable (Edwards 1998, 250-251). Given the
short-term nature of those provisions, in which soldiers carried no more than a week’s
rations in their snapsacks23 (Edwards 1998, 256), it is highly unlikely that wholesale
purchases would have been made for basic items such as pottery.
Despite this, it is likely that the majority of vessels came from local sources, both due to
similarities in fabric (Bears 1983, 219) and the distinctive Wrenthorpe fingermarks
which are present on 30 of the selected vessels (24 drinking vessels, four fine handled
jars, one handled pancheon and a costrel). This mark, linked to only a small number of
kiln sites at Wrenthorpe (Brears 1971b, 21-22; Moorhouse and Slowikowski 1992, 97),
is directly associated with the local area and therefore has the potential to play a
significant role in group identity. Unlike Pontefract, we know only a few names of those
who garrisoned the castle. However, a declaration of intent to hold the castle issued on
July 22nd 1645 (Whalley 1645a, 118) is signed by the following individuals:
- George Bonivant
- Tobias Swinden
-Henry Gascoigne
-Richard Horsfall
- Roger Portington
- Henry Ramsden
-John Benson
-Robert Benson
- William Paulden
-Timothy Paulden
Of these several were local men of significance. A declaration of allegiance to the king
signed by the Pontefract garrison signed on 20th July 1648 includes the names of George
Bonevant, John Benson and Timothy Paulden along with John Horsfall of Stonehall
(Fox 1827, 170, 241). Lieutenant Colonel Roger Portington was a local Justice of the
Peace, being from Barnby Dun, just over 20 miles from Sandal and also appears as one
23
It is from this word that the more familiar term knapsack is derived.
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of the original members of the Pontefract garrison (Boothroyd 1807, 152; Walker 1997,
5). A ‘Mr Gascone’ and ‘Capt Romsden’ are also mentioned in reference to Pontefract,
as is Sir John Ramsden, a possible relation and a ‘Captain Benson’ of Wakefield (Fox
1827,172; Walker 1997, 5-6, 20) whilst William and Timothy Paulden played a
significant role in the recapture of Pontefract to instigate the third siege (Paulden 1702;
Boothroyd 1807, 274, 284). In addition to shared officers, there was also
communication between the two, as on the 8th May 1645, ‘this night Captin Horsfold
(wth his man) went forth to Sandoll Castle’ from Pontefract (Walker 1997, 29)24. The
number of identical names within both garrisons suggests there was frequent movement
of individuals between the two castles prior to the surrender of Pontefract and some of
the garrison may have made their way to Sandal after the surrender despite being
ordered to march to Newark (Fox 1827, 226). As many of the officers garrisoning
Pontefract were local it is highly likely that a high proportion of the infantry also had
local ties.
The garrisoning of Sandal by a local population provides an explanation for the
presence of local products at the castle, with those inhabiting the castle providing
whatever they felt they could expose to the risk of loss. This also lends a particular
emphasis to vessels that could be easily identified with the castle’s vicinity, as their use
can be seen to reaffirm the links a local community had with their surrounding area. The
declaration of garrison that ‘for the preservation…of our allegiance we are intrusted
with this hold as it [sic] Sanctuarie’ (Whalley 1645a) is noteworthy in this context, as
the sanctuary was not just for a group of loyal men but also a sanctuary for a group of
people for whom this was one of the few places in their homeland which was still
recognisable.
7.4.6 Imported vessels
The local character of Sandal is highlighted by the lack of imported material, most
notably the absence of Rhenish stoneware vessels which are present at a large number
of mid-17th century sites (Gaimster 1997, 94). Only two types of imported vessel types
24
Previously translations of this interpret Horsfold as Horsfall (Fox 1827, 195) and this man is likely to
be the same Richard Horsfall who signed the declaration of intent in July 1645.
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are represented. The first are a group of six small storage jars of unknown provenance,
but likely to be Mediterranean in origin (A. Irving, pers. comm.) whilst the second type
are eight Martincamp flasks. These are supposedly made in France (Hurst et al. 1986,
103-104) but there is evidence that such flasks were also produced at English
production sites such as Ticknall, Staffordshire. At least two of the vessels from Sandal
(SAND1617 and 1619) may have been produced within the Humber region as they are
manufactured from a fabric that is both softer and more oxidised than Martincamp
vessels (A. Irving, pers. comm.).
Imported vessels are concentrated within two areas of the castle. Of the eight
Martincamp flasks found, six (SAND1616, 1618, 1619, 1620, 1621 and 1622) are
located on the motte and the other two (SAND1617 and 1623) were deposited within
the larder (SCL) and the Barbican Ditch (BDA). The Mediterranean small storage jars
(SAND1625, 1626, 1627, 1628, 1629 and 1630) all have the code SC65, although these
were recovered from the kitchen (area D or SCK) according to the original report
(Moorhouse 1983d, 213). Their limited area of consumption suggests they had a
specific social use restricted to the areas in which they were consumed. The small
storage jars are particularly unusual as there are no parallels in the region and their
restriction to a single context indicates they may have been the property of a single
person.
7.5
Vessel Glass
The re-evaluation of the vessel glass from the castle revealed several discrepancies with
the original report. Vessel 74, originally identified as a small bottle, was composed of
18th-century lead glass and thus is a later intrusion. Other vessels revised include vessel
73, too small to be identifiable, and vessel 45, which is too small to positively identify
as a urinal but is of medieval date (H. Willmott, pers. comm.). Three other vessels were
also too fragmentary for identification. As a result 31 identifiable vessels were
recovered from Civil War phases, including six from supposedly earlier phases that
were reassigned after analysis of the pottery (table 7.4).
The distribution of these vessels (fig. 7.12) shows that the largest group, sixteen items
consisting predominantly of small bottles, were found outside the kitchen (building D).
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Despite assertions that ‘little glass was found on the motte’ (Moorhouse 1983c, 226),
ten vessels were found within this area, the majority from the area outside the northwest tower (MDX, see below). Only two identified vessels, a dish retrieved from both
the barbican ditch (BDX) and an uncertain location, and a goblet from the outer
drawbridge (AD) were found elsewhere. This restriction to certain areas of the castle
suggests their role was highly specialised and related to specific social discourse within
the garrison.
It has been suggested that the kitchen was a dispensary during the Civil War
(Moorhouse 1983c, 226) and this is supported by the number of small bottles and small
storage jars within this area. Whilst they will be discussed in more detail below (see
below, 7.8.2), they indicate the unique nature of the assemblage within this area of the
castle. A rare surgeon’s bill from the Civil War indicates the medicines used within this
period for the treatment of three severely wounded soldiers, and it is likely that many of
these may have been contained within glass bottles of the form recovered from Sandal:
£ s d
Imprs. A Cordiall potion
0 2 4
It. A vulnerary drinke
0 3 8
It. 2 suppositories
0 0 6
It. A sanative pectorall drinke
0 3 4
It. A pectoral trochiske
0 0 4
It. An opening electuary
0 1 4
It. A pectoral Lincture
0 2 1
It. A Cordiall potion for 2
0 4 8
(SP 28/248 cited in Tennant 1992, 145)
The assemblage on the motte is also interesting, consisting as it does of three cucurbits,
a flask, a goblet and four bottles. The cucurbits are of particular note, as other
alchemical equipment, including both cucurbits and alembics, were recovered from an
earlier phase of the Barbican Ditch (BDE) on the other side of the castle (Moorhouse
1983c, 225). Although distilling was used primarily in the production of medicines
(Willmott 2002, 101) the removal of these three vessels may indicate another use, as it
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is unlikely occurred in this corner of the motte when the bulk of medicines were
dispensed from the kitchen. As the ceramic assemblage supports the suggestion that
material within the castle was often adapted for different purposes during the siege (see
above, 6.3.4), distillation may have been intentionally used to produce strong alcohol,
which was deemed to have medicinal properties as well as satisfying the appetite
(Moorhouse 1972, 84). Clarendon, in his history of the Civil War, noted that the
Parliamentary garrison of Gloucester ‘behaved themselves with great Courage and
Resolution’ but when they were captured on their sallies they ‘were always drunk; and,
after they are recover’d, they confes’d, “that the Governour always gave the Party that
made the Sally, as much Wine and strong Water as they desired to drink: so that it
seems their mettle was not purely natural”’ (Clarendon 1705, 341). There are interesting
parallels between this and the Sandal defenders, who ‘were not (as I remember) above
fourscore in number but a pack of as bold and desperate fellows as were in all that
Country’ (Bishop 1645) and, along with the flask and goblet found within the same
area, this indicates that the cucurbits on the motte may have had an alcoholic rather than
medicinal use. When associated with the ceramic vessels found in the same area, they
provide a comprehensive picture of the social discourse on the motte, which is explored
in greater depth below (see below, 7.8.1).
7.6
Other items associated with food and drink
There are fourteen metal objects associated with the consumption of food and drink
(table 7.5), the distribution of which can be seen in figure 7.12. These are primarily
knives, although a tankard, skillet or cauldron rim, a dish and a cheese strainer are also
represented.
The distribution of knives around the castle is to be expected, as knives were a personal
item possessed by everyone during this period. The cheese strainer found within the
workshop (SC65) is of particular interest as it indicates the garrison produced their own
food within the castle. This is supported by the sickles and pitchforks retrieved from the
site, although the latter could also have been used as improvised weapons, Prince
Rupert’s troops being reportedly equipped with pitch-forks, clubs, scythes and chopping
knives (Tennant 1992, 93). Nevertheless, the range of domestic metalwork suggests the
garrison was self-sufficient, which given the erratic nature of the Royalist supply chain
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is to be expected. The other vessels, including the tankard, skillet/cauldron and dish are
all located in the south of the castle and serve as an indication of the types of vessels
which were in use by the garrison but which have been lost from the archaeological
record.
7.7
Evidence of foodstuffs
The inferences for the foodstuffs consumed at the castle have been taken from
contemporary accounts and the faunal analysis within the original excavation report
(Griffith et al. 1983). However, it should be noted that most of the faunal remains were
retrieved from one area of the Barbican ditch (Griffith et al. 1983, 341), an area noted
for its comparative paucity of other material dating to the Civil War period (see above
7.4.1.2). This suggests that the material recovered from here may not be entirely
indicative of the composition of the meals consumed at the castle. In addition, unlike
the artefacts from the castle, no effort was made to retain detailed contextual
information for the faunal remains and, as they have subsequently been destroyed,
further reanalysis of the material is impossible.
Compared to Pontefract, (see fig. 3.5), the assemblage at Sandal is dominated by sheep
as opposed to cattle (see fig. 7.13). Given the role of Sandal as a provider of cattle for
Pontefract, this is slightly surprising but may reflect the nature of Sandal as a garrison
designed to supply Pontefract rather than sustain itself. As a result, cattle, which could
be easily driven, were supplied to Pontefract whereas the less mobile pigs and sheep
were retained for use by the garrison resulting in large proportions of both animals at
Sandal. Despite this cattle were still important, as the three foodstuffs held by the
garrison at the surrender and specifically mentioned by contemporary accounts were
‘beere, corne, beefe, and other provisions good store, for so few a number’ (Coe 1645).
As previously mentioned (see above, 3.4.3), there was a hierarchy in terms of meat
consumed and this is maintained by the mention of beef in the accounts of surrender,
despite sheep being more prevalent in the archaeological record.
There is a similar slaughter pattern to Pontefract in terms of a larger number of juveniles
being killed compared to adults (Richardson 2002, 374: Griffith et al. 1983, 345),
although this may also reflect cultural preferences (see above, 3.4.3). This is almost
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certainly the case at Sandal, where the garrison was only fully besieged for the last few
weeks of its fortification. Although there is mention in June 1645 that the garrison were
‘in some distress for horse-meat’ (Whalley 1645b, 77), it is likely this was
Parliamentarian propaganda or a temporary problem which was quickly resolved.
Significantly this also corresponds with the death of Sir Gervaise Cutler at Pontefract
Castle on 29th June during a period of deprivation when he was only allowed a chicken
and a ‘poore joint of meat’ (Walker 1997, 49). On the same day two bonfires, rather
than the usual one, was visible from the top of Sandal Castle (Walker 1997, 50). This
indicates that food deprivation, whilst being present for short periods of time, only
served as a means of strengthening garrison identity rather than weakening it.
The faunal assemblage also has a high proportion of deer, representing 14% of the total
bone assemblage. Of this the majority (11.5% of the total) are fallow deer, with 2.5%
being red deer. The presence of a deer park surrounding Sandal provides a likely
explanation for these animals being present, and Sandal would not be the first garrison
to raid the local park for their own purpose. Parliamentarians are recorded as plundering
the park at Pontefract of all its deer (Fox 1987, 14) and there are frequent references to
similar activities elsewhere, most notably at the siege of Warwick where:
‘the besiegers did breake downe the pale of Wedgnocke Parke, and daylie made
havocke of the Lord Brookes Deare, killing red and fallow, male and rascal, young and
old, fat and leane without distinction, and made Venison as plentifull among them as the
meanest Mutton.’
(Unknown cited in Tennant 1992, 38)
The stealing of deer was conducted by both sides, Parliamentarian troops stealing the
deer from the Royalist Alexander Denton (Ellis 1853, 315) whilst the Royalists pillaged
the park at Broughton Castle, Oxfordshire (Tennant 1992, 75). Significantly all these
acts were carried out by soldiers on parks belonging to their enemy, unlike Sandal
where the garrison, loyal to the king, dined off his deer (although this bias is probably
due to propaganda by both sides rather than a notable anomaly). Nevertheless, there was
a great social significance in dining off venison, the meat being compared with mutton
at Warwick (see above) and at Newnham Regis ‘venison is almost as comman with us
as beefe with you’ (Ellis 1853, 317). Such extracts demonstrate how the war impacted
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on social discourse, as foodstuffs normally unavailable to only the richest in society
were suddenly available to all who could procure it, and at minimal cost. At Sandal this
may have been an additional significance as the consumption of the king’s deer would
have highlighted the role of the garrison in asserting the rights of their legitimate king,
mirroring the castle’s role during the Wars of the Roses.
Not all food was freshly slaughtered, as indicated by the presence of cod, probably
imported as preserved stockfish from the coast (Griffith et al. 1983, 341; Nicholson
2002, 394). In addition, food was also processed on the site, as indicated by the cheese
strainer and the mention of unrefined crops such as corn in the report of surrender.
Evidence of the processing of oats was found at the castle in the form of a bakestone,
although this may have been from an earlier period and has been omitted from the final
report (Brears 1974, 58). The range of foodstuffs evident at Sandal highlights the social
difficulties faced by the garrison. Although Sandal was prepared for everyday peacetime
activities such as agriculture and food preparation, these were increasingly put under
pressure by the demands of the conflict and exposure to foodstuffs such as venison
which may have been unfamiliar to many of the castle’s inhabitants. It is in this
atmosphere of the mundane experienced within the extraordinary that social discourse at
the castle must be considered.
7.8
Holistic interpretation of material culture
Having analysed the different materials comprising of the assemblages at Sandal it is
essential to study them holistically within the context of their consumption in order to
examine the social discourse across the site. As the cross-matching sherds indicate
distinct areas of activity (see above, 7.4.2) material culture will be discussed in the
context of these discrete zones, namely the motte, the workshop, the kitchen and larder,
the Great Hall, the constable’s lodgings and the drawbridge.
7.8.1 The motte (area codes preceded by M)
The ceramic assemblage from the motte (fig. 7.14) follows many of the broad trends
visible across the site (see above, 6.3.3). Nonetheless, there are three notable
exceptions: a large number of liquid transportation vessels (eleven, 15% of the
assemblage); very few food preparation and serving vessels (two, 3% of the
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assemblage) and a comparatively large number of albarellos (fourteen, 20% of the
assemblage).
The presence of a large number of small storage vessels, along with the increased
number of fineware vessels used for cooking (see above, 6.3.4), demonstrates the shortterm nature of provisioning in the castle. Unlike Sandal, where small storage vessels
outnumber heavy duty storage vessels by two to one (fourteen vessels compared to
seven), other castles, such as Pontefract and Beeston (for Pontefract see 8.4.7.1; for
Beeston, Noake 1993, D2) have far more cisterns or large storage jars which were used
to store large amounts of liquid and foodstuffs. Although small storage vessels are seen
as ointment pots, they also held small amounts of food such as paste. Their presence is
perhaps indicative that the small garrison at Sandal was an impermanent one, without
the permanency given to Pontefract. Analysis of Nathan Drake’s diary and other
contemporary documents would support this, as armies usually lived off the land rather
than exploring long-term storage options. For example, at Coventry the population only
made provision for producing and rationing foodstuffs when it became evident that the
King might besiege the town (Tennant 1992, 124). Rather than retaining foodstuffs,
Sandal appears to have taken on the role of forager for Pontefract, at one point driving a
herd of cattle towards the castle to prevent the garrison from starving (Walker 1997,
36). Therefore, the number of small storage jars on the motte suggests the troops
stationed here only intended to be there for a short period of time, and accordingly took
the appropriate amount of foodstuffs. Such characteristics are noted at Pontefract, where
troops fortifying the church for 24 hours took with them drink and food as well as
ammunition (Walker 1997, 42).
The large number of liquid transportation vessels, including six costrels, two jugs and
three flasks, may be related to the presence of the well in tower MD, the only well
within the castle which was useable during the 16th-century visitations of the site (see
table 7.1). Although water was far from the drink of choice it was resorted to during
times of crisis, as attested by the diary of Nathan Drake during the siege at Pontefract
(Walker 1997, 30; see 8.8.1). Further evidence of the motte being a focus for drinking is
the concentration of Martincamp flasks within this area. Within a context of
consumption their distinct form is important. Often covered in wicker (Allan 1984,
113), it is probably these which are depicted as bandoleers in the English Irish Souldier
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(fig. 3.1). The reference to the flasks as ‘canary bottles’ demonstrates their association
with alcohol, and their presence in this area highlights the important role played by
alcohol during the final days of the siege. The presence of glass vessels associated with
alcohol (see above, 7.5) also reinforces the notion of this area as a focus for drinking.
The concentration of drinking paraphernalia in this area can be associated with its
position as the highest point of the castle. The motte was used as a means of
communicating with the garrison at Pontefract through the use of bonfires, the presence
of which are frequently noted in Drake’s diary (Walker 1997). Bonfires were important
as a means of strengthening group cohesion, and were used at times of stress to suggest
the appearance of good news to the garrison at Pontefract. For example on 10th July
1645, just over a week before Pontefract surrendered, four bonfires on Sandal were used
to signify the escape of a boy and two men from Pontefract to ascertain the proximity of
a possible relief force (Walker 1997, 55). As subsequent events demonstrate, no such
help was forthcoming but the incident serves to show the important role Sandal played
as both logistical and psychological support to the larger and stronger garrison at
Pontefract. The important role the motte played in the maintenance of social discourse
both within and between garrisons is also indicated by other material culture found here,
including a tobacco box deposited outside the North tower (area MDX; A. Goodall
1983, 234). Unfortunately there is insufficient detail in the clay pipe report (Lawrence
1983) to consider this artefact alongside the distribution of clay pipes within the castle.
The lighting of bonfires and similar social activities was often associated with the
consumption of alcohol or a suitable substitute such as water, a subject that will be
explored in greater detail below (see below, 9.5.2). As a result, the presence of
transportation vessels alongside a large proportion of drinking vessels may indicate the
important role played by the highest, and most natural focal point, of the castle in the
social discourse of the site.
The assemblage on the motte is thus indicative of a social discourse of drinking and
short-term consumption of food. The presence of costrels and jugs is illustrative of
communal aspects focused on the tower from which bonfires were lit to boost the
morale of the garrisons at both Sandal and Pontefract. The use of the northern tower
(MD) for this purpose is particularly relevant as it is the ‘New Tower’ constructed by
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Richard III as part of his programme of renovations for the castle (Butler et al. 1983,
28). The use of a building with direct links to past rulers underlines the importance of
the past in garrison cohesion, serving as a physical reminder of the cause which they
were desperately fighting for.
Although not associated with the consumption of food and drink, elements of the
armour found on the mount should be briefly discussed as they represent a further
continuation of the past in the present. Area MF produced two elements of a jack of
plate dating to the mid-16th century whilst two arrowheads were also recovered from
area MG (Credland 1983, 265-266). Jacks of plate are not unusual finds at Civil War
sites, having also been recovered from Beeston (Eaves 1989), Pontefract (Eaves 2002,
339-341) and St. Paul-in-the-Bail well, Lincoln (Egan 2008, 70). The significance of
these will be discussed in greater detail below (see 9.4), but they should be mentioned in
this context as this is the only area of the castle which produced archaic militaria. The
association of the past with a specific place is of particular interest here, serving as a
clear demonstration of the interaction between group identity and the maintenance of
tradition.
7.8.2 The workshop, kitchen and larder (SC65, SCK/D and SCL/L)
Although the workshop can be distinguished from the kitchen and larder both in terms
of location and archaeological assemblages within the original excavation report, there
may be significant overlap between ceramics with the code SC65 and those labelled
SCK/D or SCL/L. This is demonstrated by the small storage jars from the kitchen
labelled as SC65 (see above, 7.4.6). As a result, the assemblages from these locations
are discussed together alongside area SCL/K.
The assemblage from the workshop, kitchen and larder consists primarily of drinking
vessels (31 vessels representing 41% of the assemblage). It also contains a large number
of small storage vessels (eighteen vessels, 24% of the assemblage) and an even smaller
number of large storage vessels than the assemblage from the motte (five vessels, 7% of
the assemblage; see fig. 7.15). However, unlike the motte it includes only two liquid
transportation vessels: one tiny costrel (SAND1709) and a jug (SAND1609). The small
capacity of the costrel is unusual and suggests it was for individual rather than group
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consumption and may have contained spirits rather than wine or beer. This area is also
remarkable for the large collection of metal vessels; three knives, a tankard and the
cheese strainer (table 7.5).
The workshop was a specialised area within the garrison, unfinished castings and an
extensive number of ironworking tools indicating its use as a forge (I. Goodall 1983,
240). The range of implements, including masonry, woodworking and agricultural tools,
indicates the wide range of tasks conducted by the garrison aside from their military
role. This specialization also explains why the area possesses a low number of vessels
apart from drinking vessels and small storage vessels, as the area was put to an
industrial as opposed to a domestic purpose. The high number of agricultural tools may
indicate this area was also used as a storage area for items that were only used
sporadically.
The large number of small storage vessels, at least five of which can be specifically
assigned to the kitchen or larder (SAND1013, 1073, 1074, 1290 and 1603), is
complemented by the large glass assemblage from the same area, leading to the
suggestion that the kitchen was used for medicinal purposes (see above, 7.5; Moorhouse
1983c 213). This may also explain the large number of fine storage jars from this area,
particularly if some of these objects were employed as chamberpots (eleven vessels,
14% of the assemblage). Surgeons were important members of any garrison and
performed an important role tending the wounded and treating the infections and fever
which were rife within most garrisons, four ‘chirugions’ and one ‘phisition’ are listed
by Drake at Pontefract (Walker 1997, 15). The bodies of nine individuals were
uncovered in the inner courtyard immediately outside the Great Hall (see fig. 7.1), of
which three had wounds and artefacts consistent with shrapnel, whilst one, an individual
with difficulty in walking due to bilateral hip dysplasia, had evidence of a broken arm
which had been set to a satisfactory standard, suggesting there was at least one surgeon
present at the siege (Manchester 1983, 337-338).
Although the surgeon could also fight if required, the presence of a man with hip
dysplasia raises important questions regarding the role of apparent non-combatants
during the conflict. The tale of the deaf, dumb mute, John Dyott who shot the
Parliamentarian commander Lord Brooke at the siege of Lichfield may well be
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apocryphal (Ellis and Atherton 2009, 237); nevertheless there is little doubt that
individuals such as Dyott and the man from Sandal still played an active role during the
Civil War. It has been suggested that the individual at Sandal, despite his muscular
build, his ‘abnormality would almost certainly preclude this man from active combat
duties’ and as a result he may have been a smith (Manchester 1983, 337). Whatever his
occupation, his presence within the garrison highlights the way in which the conflict
affected all sections of society with everyone having the potential to play an active role.
The use of the kitchen as a surgery represents a clear continuity with the past as earlier
phases of this building and the nearby barbican ditch also contained medieval ceramic
and glass distillation vessels (Mayes 1983, 49; Moorhouse 1983a, 191-194; 1983c,
225). To some extent this parallel is unsurprising given the long-term association of
food with medicine within medieval and early post-medieval healthcare (see above,
3.4). In addition, and despite its dilapidated state (see above, 7.3), the building was
probably the safest area of the castle, protected through the construction of a Royalist
outwork. However, the continuation of healthcare between the medieval and postmedieval phases is still significant, indicating that whilst social discourse in some areas
of the castle, such as the motte, may have changed, in others it very much reflected
continuity with the past.
7.8.3 The Great Hall (areas K and J)
Although the assemblage from this area is small, due to the fact that only the
foundations of the building survived (Mayes 1983, 56), the largest single category of
vessels here is food preparation, accounting for 26% of the assemblage (six vessels),
compared with an average of just 11% from across the rest of the castle (fig. 7.16). This
contrasts with the activities on the motte (see above, 7.8.1), where drinking activities
dominated, and would suggest the Great Hall was primarily used for the preparation and
serving of food. The unique nature of this area is also indicated by the high proportion
of yellow ware vessels, comprising of fourteen out of the twenty-five vessels. The
significance of colour has already been discussed (see above, 3.3), with yellow in
particular being linked to the preparation and consumption of food (Yentsch 1991, 193195; Cumberpatch 2002, 222; 2003, n.p.). These vessels include heavy duty storage
vessels, SAND1589 and 1591, in a yellow ware fabric, which is particularly unusual as
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this category of vessel is more usually found in a brown glazed fabric. One of these,
1591, is a heavily sooted coarseware vessel in a fabric (Yw6) which is similar to many
saggar fabrics, containing large amounts of shale and with a frequently sooted exterior.
This, like the distinctive Wrenthorpe mark (see above, 7.4.5), is closely associated with
West Yorkshire including Pontefract, Huddersfield and Leeds (Cumberpatch 2002, 189)
and thus serves as a further demonstration of the physical embodiment of local loyalties.
The fact that this area has a relatively low number of sooted vessels (see fig. 7.10) does
not preclude the use of the Great Hall for cooking, as sizeable cooking vessels would be
made from metal and therefore are unlikely to survive archaeologically. As has been
previously noted (see above, 3.6.2), communal dining played an important part in social
discourse amongst the infantry. Estimates of the garrison at the surrender of Sandal
Castle range from eighty to one hundred individuals (Coe 1645; Bishop 1645), and the
Great Hall was the only room large enough to accommodate this number of men. It also
benefitted, along with the kitchen, with the extra protection provided by the Royalist
outwork. Sandal was not alone in having a large communal dining area, for example at
Great Chalfield, Wiltshire, wages were paid to a soldier ‘for making clean the hall and
tables where the soldiers dine’ (Pafford 1940, 77). The composition of the assemblage
highlights the specialised role played by this building in terms of both the physical
appearance of the vessels consumed and their form. Although there is evidence of
communal consumption taking place in other areas, such as the motte, this is clearly
linked to active bombardment rather than the long periods in which the garrison was not
under attack (see above, 7.8.1). Under normal circumstances, the assemblage from the
Great Hall suggests men did not dine in individual groups around the wall, but instead
prepared and consumed food communally within a single room (contra Brears 1983,
224).
The role of the Great Hall as the symbolic heart of the community, in which food was
prepared and consumed, places particular significance on the positioning of the Civil
War burials immediately outside this building (see fig. 7.1). Their position here, rather
than outside the kitchen where they presumably had been treated (see above, 7.8.2), is
particularly unusual as they are orientated approximately northeast-southwest rather
than east-west. This means the graves, rather than being orientated for conventional
Christian burial, respect the orientation of the Great Hall and lie almost parallel to it. As
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7 Sandal
a result, their location serves as a highly visible reminder of group identity through
forming a physical reminder of past comrades. Therefore, the Great Hall served to
cement communal identity and loyalty not only through the consumption of food within
its walls but also in the location of burials which the garrison would pass daily when
entering and exiting the building.
7.8.4 The Constable’s Lodgings (areas P, R, Q, T and AK)
The assemblage from this area is small, largely because the Constable’s Lodgings were
timber-framed and, as a result, its foundations and associated deposits are insubstantial
when compared with the rest of the castle (Butler 1983b, 79). Therefore, any
conclusions made from the 32 identifiable vessels must be tentative, but there are still
significant observations to be made regarding social discourse in this area. The majority
of vessels (eleven objects) originate from building R, but there is a wide spread of
vessels throughout the area and the composition of assemblages is fairly uniform given
the low quantity of vessels present.
Analysis of the assemblage suggests a large bias towards drinking vessels, with these
comprising 66% of the total assemblage (21 vessels, see fig. 7.17). This percentage is
higher than the proportion of drinking vessels from the motte and is compounded by the
high level of archaic material, consisting of six Cistercian ware vessels and one vessel
in a transitional Cistercian ware to blackware form (SAND651). This is unsurprising, as
this was the only area in good repair when the castle was surveyed in the 16 th century
and it was inhabited until 1564 at the earliest (see table 7.1). Unlike other areas, which
were largely unoccupied during this period, the continued occupation within the
lodgings may have meant drinking vessels such as those deposited within this area were
still present in the building when it was acquisitioned by the Royalist garrison.
Nevertheless, the continued presence of antiquated vessels within the drinking
assemblages is a further reminder of the importance of tradition at the castle as, like the
motte, the Constable’s Lodgings were one of the key areas modified by Richard III
(Butler 1983b, 79).
The presence of a single food preparation vessel and one unsooted cooking vessel is
unsurprising as, compared to the Great Hall, the Constable’s Lodgings offered only a
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7 Sandal
small degree of protection to its inhabitants and even when under bombardment the
stone construction of the former was infinitely preferable to the timber construction of
the latter. The difference in function is emphasized by the fact that only three,
unidentified vessels out of the total assemblage are yellow glazed, the rest being glazed
brown or black. There are also no small storage vessels, despite these being numerous
elsewhere in the castle.
The restricted assemblage within this area may suggest that, unlike other areas such as
the motte and Great Hall, it played only a minor social role in the garrison. Given the
construction of the building this is unsurprising, but it highlights how the occupation of
Sandal was not homogenous but instead was comprised of discrete areas of social
discourse, each with their own distinct significance to the castle’s inhabitants.
7.8.5 The drawbridge area (Areas AA, AC and AD, YY and areas preceded by
DB)
Like the majority of the site, the assemblage from the area surrounding the drawbridge
is characterised by a large volume of drinking vessels constituting 48% of the
assemblage (eighteen vessels) (see fig. 7.18). Significantly, the four food preparation
vessels from this assemblage all originate from a single building just inside the main
entrance to the castle (building AA), an area described by the original excavation as
being unoccupied by 1600 (Butler 1983b, 79). The base of another vessel associated
with the serving of food, a glass dish (see above, 7.5), was also found near here. This
timber-framed building was constructed during the rebuild of Richard III (Butler 1983b,
79) and is described as having no internal floor levels within the original excavation
report (Mayes 1983, 54). It is also located within the area which apparently witnessed
the heaviest Parliamentarian bombardment as indicated by the distribution of lead shot
and cannon balls within the castle (Butler 1983b, 80; Credland 1983, 260-263).
The concentration of military activity around this area suggests the need for a smaller
company of men here and this is confirmed by the separate area of food preparation and
the two cooking vessels, one from building AA and another from YY, the courtyard
near to the outer drawbridge (SAND1450 and 1590). Three small storage jars found in
nearby area AB may also relate to the preparation of food. The distinct nature of this
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7 Sandal
area, with a garrison housed within a wooden building maintaining one of the most
vulnerable areas of the castle, may have created a different group identity of exposed
individuals removed from the mass consumption of the Great Hall. Indeed, there are
strong comparisons to be drawn between the occupation of this building and the dining
assemblage from the motte (see above, 6.3.4). The presence of small assemblages such
as these suggests that, whilst communal consumption between the whole garrison was
preferred, in the final days of the siege this became increasingly impossible due to
Parliamentarian bombardment and the need to defend specific areas of the castle. As a
result, the assemblages from this area serves as a demonstration of the physical and
psychological strain of the besieged garrison as communal ties came under increasing
pressure.
7.9
Conclusion
The analysis of social discourse at Sandal relies on an understanding of the biography
of the site and the significance this had on the garrison in the brutal reality of the Civil
War. Although this will be discussed further with reference to Eccleshall and Pontefract
Castles, the role of tradition in the maintenance of the Sandal garrison cannot be underestimated. The continuity of use for many of the buildings, including communal dining
in the Great Hall and the medicinal use of the kitchen, is indicative of the strong sense
of tradition endorsed by the use of outmoded drinking vessels and other equipment such
as armour. In addition, a Parliamentarian report suggests that the garrison, ‘were
desperate fellowes. I remember that not long since when they made a needlesse salley,
only to fetch in May, and May flowers’ (Walbancke 1645). The celebration of May Day
through the collection of flowers was a long-standing tradition noted in particular for
sexual promiscuity and frivolity (Cressy 1989, 21-22), and it is likely that the garrison
made such a sally to rile its besiegers who stereotypically disapproved of an event with
such pagan aspersions.
A close examination of Sandal demonstrates how the occupation of the site was not
homogenous but instead consisted of several separate zones of social discourse. In
particular, the use of the Great Hall for dining and the motte for drinking rituals
indicates how different areas of the castle were utilized for various activities dependent
on their physical attributes. The motte, due to its height, was a place of communication
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and reinforcing the bonds of loyalty not only between the garrison at Sandal, but also
that at Pontefract. Ultimately this is how the occupation of Sandal should be viewed, not
as the typical Civil War siege site but instead of a castle playing an important role in the
maintenance of morale and social discourse both within the local inhabitants but also its
more powerful neighbour. It is this neighbour which forms the focus of the next chapter.
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8
8.1
Pontefract
Introduction
Considered by some near contemporaries to be ‘the Greatest and Strongest Castle in
England’ (Paulden 1702, 5), it is perhaps unsurprising that from 1642 until 1649
Pontefract played a major role in the Civil War. Situated within the town of Pontefract
to the east of the Great North Road (SE4595722373), the royal stronghold was of great
strategic importance due to its position on main routes leading north-south and eastwest. It already had an infamous reputation, having been witness to the suspicious death
of Richard II and the execution site for several prominent figures during the Wars of the
Roses.
The fifteen months of Royalist occupation, details of which have been outlined above
(see 2.8.3) have created a rich documentary record that includes Nathan Drake’s siege
diary for the first and second sieges, and a first-hand account of the occupation of the
castle during the third siege (Walker 1997; Paulden 1702). The presence of other
evidence, including the demolition accounts (see above, 4.6.3) and several siege
diagrams, means Pontefract is one of the most well documented sieges of the conflict.
The siege and associated documents have been summarised thoroughly by subsequent
authors, including Fox (1987), Holmes (1887) and the slightly inaccurate Boothroyd
(1807; Quinn 1992, 6). Modern summaries of these accounts are offered both within the
excavation report for the castle (Roberts 2002a) and an evaluation produced for the
350th anniversary of the siege (Quinn 1992). These, combined with analysis of material
from excavations from the castle, reveal a complex social discourse in which
communality and tradition played a prominent role.
8.2
Fortification
The royal status of Pontefract meant it had been subject to repairs throughout the
preceding century and a half, including a new chapel built during the mid-late 16th
century (Colvin et al. 1975, 287; Roberts 2002c, 410). Like Sandal it had also played a
prominent part in the Wars of the Roses, although, unlike Sandal, Pontefract was
originally under Lancastrian rather than Yorkist control. Fifty years later, in 1536, it
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was surrendered to the rebels during the Pilgrimage of Grace without a shot being fired.
Despite the castle being in some need of repair and lacking weaponry including guns,
bows and arrows, the governor was subsequently executed for treason (Colvin et al.
1975, 288). By 1618 an estimated £3,000 was required for restoration and, despite only
£750 being advanced in the subsequent two years, it was in good repair by 1640 (Colvin
et al. 1975, 290). An oil painting completed during this period (fig. 8.1) depicts a castle
which was still largely intact, although with some decay on the walls of the outer
courtyards. Significantly John Taylor in 1622 stated that:
‘To dinner I to Pomfret quickly rode,
Where good hot Venison staid for my abode,
I thanke the worshipfull George Shillito,
He fill'd my men and me, and let us goe.
There did I well view ouer twice or thrice,
A strong, a faire, and ancient Edifice:
Reedifi'd, where it was ruin'd most,
At th'high and hopefull Prince of Wales his cost.’
(Taylor 1630, 15. Extract from A very Merrie Wherrie-Ferry-Voyage lines 828-835).
The poem suggests that during the years preceding the Civil Wars the popular
perception of the castle was a stronghold in good repair with close links to Charles I, the
Prince of Wales in Taylor’s work. Charles himself was impressed by the castle when he
visited in 1633, although the Church and outbuildings including the stable were in need
of some repair (Colvin et al. 1975, 290). The close links the town had with the crown
cemented the allegiance of many of the local inhabitants, as indicated by the large
number of townspeople who garrisoned the castle during the first and second sieges
(Quinn 1992, 44; see below, 8.4.5). Although George Shillito himself did not participate
in the conflict, Jarvis and George Shillito, probably his son and grandson, were both
part of the original garrison (Fox 1987, 171).
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8.2.1 Building Function
The presence of so many documents relating to the siege means that, unlike Sandal and
Eccleshall, the archaeology can be compared with fragmentary accounts of the function
of individual buildings before and during the conflict, although these primarily relate to
their military function. These include a description of the castle from 1643 which gives
some illustration of the perceived uses of the castle in the year before the first siege
began in earnest (SRO GD 34/900, reproduced in Roberts 2002a, 440). The account
includes one entry pertaining to the Constable Tower, ‘the lower storie beinge two
dungeons for Prisoners and three Chambers above’ (Roberts 2002a, 440). Given that as
many as 240 Parliamentarians were imprisoned at the castle during this period (Fox
1987, 5-6; Roberts 2002d, 413) this remark is probably more than supposition. As a
result plaster graffiti found in the cellar deposits of the Constable Tower deemed by
some to be Royalist (Bostwick and Roberts 2002, 293) is more likely to be due to
Parliamentarian prisoners, thus demonstrating the difficulty in drawing clear divisions
between Parliamentarian and Royalist deposits in the archaeological record.
The only rooms described as fair in the 1643 report are those within the King’s and
Queen’s Towers. That these rooms were reserved for the use of officers during the siege
is subject to conjecture, but when the Royalists seized in the castle in 1648, the
Parliamentarian soldiers ‘retreated to the Queen’s Tower’ (Glemham 1648, 2)
suggesting this was thought to be either the strongest point of the castle or its symbolic
heart. It is extremely likely that the Great Hall, adjacent to the Queen’s Tower, was the
communal centre of the garrison during the first and second sieges, as this was where
the governor consulted with the garrison over a possible surrender on the 16th July 1645
(Walker 1997, 58). Drake’s diary also suggests the separation of officers and men, with
set rooms assigned as ‘Gentlemen’s Chambers’ (Walker 1997, 58) and some of the
lower classes sleeping in the open on the top of towers (Walker 1997, 38; Holmes 1887,
109). The importance of the King’s Tower is further emphasised by the placement of
one of the two flags of defiance on its roof on 17th July 1645, the other being placed on
the Keep (Walker 1997, 59), and this is also supported archaeologically, in particular by
the plasterwork. Plaster from the Constable Tower and bakehouse/brewhouse was
comprised predominantly of gypsum rather than lime, which was used in the King’s
Tower and Elizabethan Chapel. The presence of the latter indicates plastered ceilings
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‘as would be expected from their [the King’s Tower and Chapel’s] relative polite status
as compared with the Constable Tower and Brewhouse’ (Bostwick 2002, 163).
Therefore, the lack of plastered ceilings in the Constable Tower suggests that the
surroundings were less fine than those in the eastern range and, although the Constable
Tower produced the largest assemblage from the castle, this may not be representative
of elite occupation during the Civil War. Unfortunately the King’s Tower was only
partially sampled and the surrounding rooms, including the Queen’s Tower and Great
Hall, were unexcavated so a full comparison between these two areas is impossible.
Despite its occupation during the three sieges it should be remembered that for large
periods of the war the main garrison of Pontefract did not inhabit the castle. From 1642
until the first siege the Royalist garrison, consisting of 200 infantry and 50 cavalry,
were billeted within the town, and whilst under Parliamentarian control in 1645-6 this
probably increased to 600 infantry and 200 Parliamentarian cavalry (Quinn 1992, 19). It
was the movement of men from the town to the castle which allowed Pontefract to be
seized by Royalists in 1648, as the Royalists disguised themselves as townspeople to
gain entry to the castle (Paulden 1702, 7). As a result the material deposited at the site is
probably more representative of a garrison under siege, when the inhabitants were
forced to inhabit the castle.
8.3
Archaeological Excavations
The first excavations at Pontefract were directed by Richard Holmes in the late 19th
century (Holmes 1882b; 1883; 1887) and concentrated on the north-western quadrant of
the castle, particularly the kitchen and brewhouse/bakehouse area (Roberts 2002b, 34).
Further excavations coordinated by West Yorkshire Archaeology Service were
conducted at the castle between 1982 and 1986 in advance of conservation and
preservation of the upstanding remains (Roberts 2002e, 4-5). The results of these
excavations were fully published (Roberts 2002a) and the site archive is now stored
with Wakefield Museums Service.
A glance at a plan of Pontefract castle at the time of the siege (fig. 8.2) emphasises the
limited nature of the excavations, which were conducted for conservation rather than
research purposes (Roberts 2002e, 5). Amongst those areas receiving limited attention
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9 Tradition and Conviviality
were the Queen’s Tower, the Keep and the Barbican, all mentioned frequently within
Drake’s diary (Walker 1997; Roberts 2002b, 17, 130-13325). The five areas which
contained substantial amounts of material relating to the Civil War were:
1) The Constable Tower. Fully excavated, revealing a large depth of material due
in part to its deep basement and countermine shaft (Roberts 2002b, 99-112).
2) The Elizabethan Chapel. Fully excavated, including a countermine shaft,
although there was some disturbance due to Victorian excavations (Roberts
2002b, 89-99).
3) The King’s Tower. Upper deposits only sampled due to instability of material
(Roberts 2002b, 65-70).
4) The Bakehouse/Brewhouse. Fully excavated, including a countermine shaft,
although due to Victorian excavations the deposits were only shallow (Roberts
2002b, 34-41).
5) The Kitchen. Fully excavated, although partially truncated by Victorian
excavations (Gomersall and Roberts 2002).
8.4
The pottery
The ceramic assemblage from Pontefract has been subjected to previous study
(Cumberpatch 2002), but has been fully reassessed to take advantage of recent
development in ceramic studies and facilitate a suitable comparison with material from
Sandal and Eccleshall Castles. An estimated 2,010 vessels were analysed from the five
principal areas excavated, weighing in total just over 104 kg; 1,327 vessels from the
25
The excavation report differentiates between the ‘outer bailey’ and the ‘barbican’ which has also been
referred to as the ‘Main Guard’ (Roberts 2002b, 133). However, this differentiation does not appear to be
historical, and there is no distinction made by contemporaries such as Nathan Drake. As a result the
barbican refers within this study to the southern portion of the castle beyond the main gatehouse.
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Constable Tower, 407 from the kitchen, 132 from the King’s Tower, 78 from the
Elizabethan Chapel and 65 from the brewhouse/bakehouse26.
8.4.1 Assemblage fragmentation
Analysis of the ceramic assemblage from Pontefract (see table 8.1) indicates a high
degree of fragmentation, with non-residual vessels being on average only 4.31%
complete. Within the entire assemblage, only 314 out of a total of 2,010 vessels
(15.62%) are at least 5% complete, the vast majority of these (261 vessels) being from
the Constable Tower. This area also has the highest proportion of non-residual vessels
(84.25%), suggesting the deposits here were less contaminated than other areas. The
King’s Tower shows a similar fragmentation profile, despite the limited excavations
within this area.
It may be argued that the differences in fragmentation represent the nature of the
deposits, with the deeper features of the Constable Tower being less subject to
taphonomic processes and later investigations. To some extent this is true, as Victorian
excavations and landscapers heavily truncated deposits in many areas (Roberts 2002d,
423). However the Elizabethan Chapel, despite containing a deep countermine shaft
which was protected from later truncation, has the second lowest proportion of nonresidual vessels with only 41.03% of vessels being non-residual (32 out of an estimated
78 vessels). Furthermore, the paucity of finds from this area in general (see below,
8.4.7.2) is indicative of complex social practices within the site that require further
investigation.
The bakehouse/brewhouse and kitchen deposits are close to each other and share a very
low proportion of vessels at least 5% complete (6.15% and 5.16% respectively). This
may in part be due to Victorian excavations, with the kitchen in particular having thin
deposits which were partially disturbed (Roberts 2002b, 43-6) and this is supported by
the relatively low percentage of non-residual artefacts from the area (37.35% compared
to an average across the site of 71.54%).
26
An additional vessel joined between the Constable Tower and King’s Tower.
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9 Tradition and Conviviality
Given the large size of the castle, the extent of the area destroyed, and the partial
excavation of the remaining interior, it is not surprising that the fragmentation rates at
Pontefract are high. Even so, the fragmentation of vessels found in deep deposits such
as the Constable Tower is of interest, as these are features which may be assumed to
contain largely complete vessels. The fact that they do not suggests the deposits within
these features derive not from primary contexts relating to the occupation of specific
buildings, but rather from later demolition practices. This is supported by sherds which
join between contexts and, in one case, across the site.
8.4.2 Cross-matching sherds
As previously stated (see above, 5.4.1) only a selected number of sherds were crossmatched, although the low number of new matches resulting from this suggests that
vessels were largely confined to a single context. Out of an estimated 2,010 vessels, at
least 88 of these have sherds which join across contexts (see table 8.2). Only one vessel,
a Frechen drinking flask (PONT407), was deposited between two areas, with a single
sherd from the Constable Tower (context [83]) joining with one from the King’s Tower
(context [150]). Due to the limited nature of the excavations and the truncation by
earlier investigations it is difficult to ascertain the significance of this. However, as [83]
is a primary, as opposed to secondary, fill this cannot be attributed to later levelling
activities and instead suggests material was moved around the castle during demolition.
This offers an additional explanation of the high fragmentation rates found within the
castle as a whole, as vessels might have been deposited in a number of different
locations. This is not an unusual occurrence, having been previously identified at Sandal
Castle and Kirkstall Abbey (Moorhouse 1986, 88; Moorhouse and Slowikowski 1987,
102-107), but it does suggest fills cannot be directly assigned to the buildings they
originated from. This is of particular importance when establishing the phasing of
contexts within the Constable Tower.
8.4.2.1 Cross-matching sherds within the Constable Tower: a reassessment
of phasing
Out of an estimated 1,327 vessels from the Constable Tower, 76 had sherds with crosscontext joins. As noted in the original analysis of the ceramic assemblage from the
Constable Tower, analysis of these challenges the original phasing of the tower
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(Cumberpatch 2002, 216). This phasing, derived principally from the clay tobacco pipes
recovered from the site, identified five different sub-phases, four of which could be
distinguished archaeologically:
Phase
Description
Date
5A/B
First and second sieges
1644-45
5C
Occupation of the castle by
Parliament
1645
5D
Third siege
1648-49
5E
Demolition of the castle
1649
(Roberts 2002b, 108, see fig. 8.3 and table 8.3)
However, of 76 cross-joining vessels from the Constable Tower, 37 join between these
phases (see table 8.2). A further 32 join within the same phase as assigned by the
original excavation team and seven join between phases 5A/B and phase 5C, which
excavators suggested was a levelling deposit containing residual material from earlier
phases and therefore does not challenge the original phasing. However, the fact that
almost half of all cross-joining sherds join between phases suggests something more
complex is occurring within the deposits than suggested by the original excavation.
The 37 vessels which joined across phases were plotted, showing a wide variation of
deposits (fig. 8.4). As noted by previous studies, of greatest significance is the high
number of sherds joining between [99] and [103], suggesting these fills, despite being
placed in phases 5D and 5A/B respectively, originated from the same source
(Cumberpatch 2002, 216). Alongside cross-joins of other sherds between contexts
below [82], these cross-joins suggest these contexts are the result of a single phase of
deposition as opposed to several phases. There are very few joins between these
contexts and those including and overlying [82], which instead form their own discrete
episode of deposition linked to the levelling of the tower. Despite this, the phases are
not completely distinct, as demonstrated by three anomalies:
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9 Tradition and Conviviality

PONT386. One sherd from context [82] joins with thirteen from [83], one from
[90] and three from [92]

PONT723. One sherd from context [31] joins with four from [98], three from
[115], two from [110] and [113] and one from [83] and [92]

PONT790. Four sherds from context [28] join with one from [99]
In addition context [83], despite having more sherds joining with deposits below rather
than above it, contains the large level of masonry characteristic of later deposits
interpreted as demolition debris (Roberts 2002b, 111). However, [83] contained
nineteen architectural fragments, compared to 108 in context [82] directly above it and
three and seven fragments from contexts [90] and [98] immediately below it (Roberts
2002d, 426). Given the relative sizes of the deposits (see fig. 8.4) nineteen is more
comparable with the deposits below rather than those above it. Although there is a
visible trend towards increased quantities of architectural stonework in upper deposits,
there is no distinct division between demolition deposits with masonry and earlier
deposits without stonework. Moreover, the cross-joining sherds suggests that [82] is
characteristically part of the initial phase of looting, albeit with influences indicating a
transition towards the demolition of the tower.
Although these anomalies indicate the phases of deposition were far from pristine, there
is enough evidence to suggest there were two, closely linked, phases of activity within
the Constable Tower as opposed to several phases over the course of five years. The
main arguments against this, as laid out in the original report, are outlined below along
with their counterargument:
1) The dating of tobacco pipes within the deposits of the Constable Tower has been
cited as the principal evidence for five separate phases (Roberts 2002b, 108).
However, although there is a general trend towards later pipes in later contexts,
it is only vague and is not substantial enough to justify the identification of
individual events. Analysis of pipe fragments from the countermine shaft,
originally attributed to phase 5A/B and 5C, suggested it did not contain any
fragments dating from 1650-70 (Davey and White 2002, 229) but this covers the
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9 Tradition and Conviviality
entirety of the Civil War rather than the initial occupation and still contains
fragments which date from 1640-1660. Only the demolition deposits, from [83]
upwards, contained significant number of pipes dating from 1640-1670 and
these can still be attributed to the period the tower was occupied. In addition, the
alternative explanation of two separate but related phases would still agree with
the analysis of pipe fragments, with earlier deposits relating to the disposal of
occupation waste relating to the siege and later deposits relating to continued
disposal alongside the demolition of buildings.
2) The distinct appearance of a number of deposits. Context [108/110] is described
as sandy and attributed to ‘the final reinstatement of the basement floor’ during
the Parliamentarian occupation, contrasting strongly with the ‘charcoal and ashrich deposits’ of the third siege (Roberts 2002b, 111). However, these different
deposits appear to be have accumulated rapidly with material from shared
sources, suggesting they instead represent levelling deposits during the
dismantling of the tower as opposed to an attempt to make the basement
serviceable for another siege.
3) The infilling of the countermine. The excavators suggest that the countermines
were filled between the second and third sieges, perhaps even towards the end of
the second siege when the castle was still under Royalist control. Evidence to
suggest this includes the lack of architectural material deposited within the
Constable Tower shaft and the reinstatement of floors, including the laying of
cobbles on the Brewhouse floor (Roberts 2002d, 427). However, the primary
fills of the Constable Tower contained large amounts of lime wall plaster,
indicative of an internal clearance of walls prior to the demolition of masonry
and the wider fabric of the building (Bostwick 2002, 166; Roberts 2002d, 427).
If the proposed new phasing is accepted it has important implications for understanding
the vessels deposited at the site, particular when understanding the differing
composition of the assemblages from the two initial deposits and subsequent backfill.
Significantly it also complements the contemporary sources, as reports of the final days
of the second siege report that little damage was done to the castle in the bombardment,
‘saving the ruining of some Rooms’, with only one storey destroyed ‘so extreme strong
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9 Tradition and Conviviality
is the castle timber’ (Holmes 1887, 223). Other evidence also supports this
reinterpretation, for example fragmentation analysis (see table 8.4) indicates a disparity
between the two phases of deposition, with a higher percentage of non-residual vessels
at least 5% complete present in the secondary as opposed to the primary phase (26.43%
compared to 20.73 respectively). Vessels in the secondary phase are also more
fragmented, with vessels at least 5% complete being, on average, 12.71% complete,
compared to 19.83% for the primary phase.
8.4.3 Sooted vessels
A total of 55 vessels displayed evidence of sooting or burning, of which 24 were at least
5% complete. Eleven were probably burnt after disposal (six of which are at least 5%
complete), including PONT58, a vessel with two joining sherds from two different
contexts, [98] and [116], only one of which had been burnt27. Evidence of burning is
entirely consistent with the aftermath of a siege (e.g. Moorhouse 1970, 36), although, as
demonstrated by PONT58, its application to Civil War contexts is complex (Rakoczy
2007, 69).
The 44 vessels sooted before disposal are more restricted in form than those at Sandal
and originate from all areas of the castle (see fig. 8.5a28). There is no evidence of sooted
storage vessels and only six drinking vessels have evidence of sooting, all originating
from the Constable Tower, and all of which are at least 5% complete (see fig. 8.5b). The
largest proportion of sooted vessels is associated with food preparation, particularly
within the Constable Tower (ten out of a total of 34 vessels, five of which are at least
5% complete). Sooting on these vessels is not unusual and may indicate the use of these
vessels when warming milk or dough, stages in the production of butter and bread
respectively (Anderson 1971, 125, 168). Of the unidentified finewares, only one is a
blackware with the others being yellow ware or redware, both fabrics associated with
food preparation rather than drinking.
27
A further five vessels burnt after breakage were less than 5% complete.
28
Unlike the other two sites, the high fragmentation rate at Pontefract necessitated an approach which
initially included all sooted vessels, as opposed to those at least 5% complete.
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The majority of sooted vessels at least 5% complete are located within the primary
deposits of the Constable Tower, particularly contexts [98] (three drinking vessels and
one food preparation vessel) and [116] (four cooking vessels, one drinking vessel; see
fig. 8.5 and table 8.7). Four of the five remaining sooted vessels from these deposits
also join with one of these contexts, one (PONT84) is a cooking vessel which joins with
[116] and the remaining three (two food preparation vessels, PONT327 and 1484, and
one drinking vessel, PONT1486) join with [98]. The predominance of these two
contexts suggests some specialisation in the area from which these contexts originated,
a feature which, in the case of [116], will be investigated in greater detail below (see
8.4.7.1.1.1)
The restricted number of forms subject to sooting suggests that vessels were not adapted
for cooking purposes, unlike those at Sandal (see above, 7.4.4). This reinforces the
possibility that Pontefract was better equipped for a siege and reflects the status of the
castle as a large, highly organised garrison. Furthermore, unlike the isolated Sandal,
Pontefract was located within a town where a market was still held throughout the siege
with frequent opportunities to procure goods required by the inhabitants. However,
despite this access to supplies, examination of non-residual vessels reveals a significant
number of vessels that are much older than the context in which they are deposited.
8.4.4 Outdated material
As at Sandal, a significant number of the drinking vessels at Pontefract are either
Cistercian ware or transitional Cistercian/blackware (see fig. 8.6), although there are
also a large number of other outmoded vessels represented within the Constable Tower
which are discussed in greater detail below. Out of 77 non-residual drinking vessels, ten
(13%) are Cistercian ware and seven (9%) are of a transitional blackware/Cistercian
ware form (see table 8.5). These vessels are more than 15% complete on average,
indicating their presence within the siege deposits is not anomalous. Cistercian and
transitional ware vessels are distributed throughout the castle with the exception of the
kitchen (see table 8.6). The Constable Tower is of particular interest, with almost every
context containing at least one archaic vessel and one context [116] having a
particularly large concentration (Cumberpatch 2002, 216).
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Within the Constable Tower, eighteen other non-residual vessels were manufactured in
the 16th century or earlier (see table 8.8). Three vessels are particularly significant due
to their early date, two are South Yorkshire Gritty ware B vessels (SYGb) dating from
the 13th-14th centuries (PONT98 and 100) and another is a Skipton-on-Swale vessel
dating to the 14th-15th centuries (PONT285). Eight vessels are unidentified, the rest
consisting of three cooking jars, four jugs, one large storage vessel, one costrel and one
drinking vessel. The bias towards cooking jars and jugs probably reflects preferences in
earlier pottery forms rather than the deliberate selection of those particular vessels, as
these vessels dominate medieval assemblages (Brown 2002, 155).
Although outmoded vessels are distributed throughout the tower, there is a
concentration of vessels from adjacent contexts [116] and [133] (see tables 8.7 and 8.9).
As [116] is also noted for the concentration of Cistercian ware vessels, this would
suggest that the deposit originated from an area where an unusually high volume of
outmoded vessels were used. This is further demonstrated when considering all
Cistercian ware vessels present within this context, as an additional 32 vessels are less
than 5% complete, mostly represented by single body sherd. To a certain extent the
presence of outmoded vessels within the assemblage is to be expected as, unlike Sandal,
Pontefract was occupied throughout the 16th century. The proximity of the town also
suggests a possible source, as it is likely those occupying the castle supplied themselves
with material culture from the surrounding area where it was available. After the battle
of Hopton Heath the house of Lord Aston of Forfar was raided with the soldiers
‘carrying away everything portable including all the food. That night, Aston’s wife &
daughter had to beg milk from one of their neighbours & a skillet to boil it in’ (Band
1985, 18). This incident was far from isolated and it is likely that all necessary utensils
were carried into the castle regardless of age. However, rather than being employed
throughout the castle, the concentration of vessels within context [116] suggests that
these vessels were only employed in specific areas. This will be discussed in greater
detail below, as it is also reflected by a high proportion of other antiquated material
culture, including armour (see below, 8.8.2).
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8.4.5 Local identities
As previously noted at Sandal (see above, 7.4.5) it is highly unlikely garrisons made
bulk orders of ceramics to local manufacturers, commanders instead relying on looting
and the soldiers own possessions to fulfil their requirements. However, the siege at
Pontefract also had a significant number of participants who were prominent members
of the town, as attested by the number of gentlemen volunteers listed within Drake’s
diary (Walker 1997, 5-6). The local middling classes were particularly well represented,
at the beginning of the first siege ten out of Pontefract’s thirteen Aldermen entered the
castle, two of the men remaining being Parliamentarian supporters and the other was
probably too old (Holmes 1882a, 9). Local inhabitants also featured prominently in the
third siege; for example one of the six men excepted from the terms of surrender was
Allan Austwick, the son of a volunteer defender during the first siege (Holmes 1878,
233).
The number of local defenders reflects the loyalty of the town to the royal cause, and as
a result it is unsurprising that there are 31 vessels with Wrenthorpe handles, produced
less than ten miles from the castle, although only eight of these are at least 5% complete
(see table 8.9). However, even allowing for the high fragmentation rate at the castle, this
is far lower than Sandal, which had, in total, 74 ENV with Wrenthorpe handles. Six of
these vessels are located within the Constable Tower (four drinking vessels, one fine
storage vessel, one identified) and two drinking vessels are located within the
Elizabethan Chapel and Kitchen.
As at Sandal, the presence of these vessels supports a pattern of social discourse
focussed on civic identity. The siege coins produced by the garrison during the third
siege all depict Pontefract castle on the reverse (Wright 2002, 282) and the consumption
of local ceramics at a site, which represented the town as a whole, served to reaffirm
local identities through the communion of familiar vessels by people who had lived
together for most of their lives. However, the incidence of these vessels at Pontefract is
lower than that of its neighbour, suggesting a more cosmopolitan social discourse. This
is supported by the substantial number of imported vessels at the site.
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8.4.6 Imported vessels
Despite the large number of local ceramics, at Pontefract a wide range of recognisably
non-local vessels are also present. This provides a contrast to Sandal, where non-local
forms were restricted to Martincamp flasks and a small group of drug jars (see above,
7.4.6). In total 57 non-residual vessels can be positively identified as vessels which
were produced outside West Yorkshire, including Dutch and London tin-glazed wares,
two sherds of a Martincamp flask and a range of Rhenish stonewares including vessels
from the Westerwald, Raeren and Frechen traditions. A number of these, such as a
Raeren drinking flask dating from 1475-1550 (PONT77), demonstrate the way in which
the castle and town were embedded in national and international trade networks long
before the Civil War.
28 vessels of non-local manufacture were at least 5% complete (see table 8.10); six
drinking vessels, six drinking flasks, three small storage jars, one decorated Delft bowl
and one Dutch cooking vessel. A further eleven vessels remain unidentified. Although
most of these non-local vessels originate from the Constable Tower (Cumberpatch
2002, 194), this probably reflects the depth of deposits here rather than the nature of the
tower itself. The only area without imported wares is the Bakehouse/Brewhouse, an area
which produced just one identifiable drinking vessel. The presence of imported vessels
in almost all areas of the castle indicates how embedded they were within contemporary
society, although it should be noted that the range of imports present at the castle is still
small in comparison to other sites (Cumberpatch 2002, 220). However, inland sites
often have a limited number of non-local wares due to the restricted circulation of
imported goods, so this may not be a remarkable phenomenon (Brown 1997, 91).
Close parallels can be drawn between Pontefract and the composition of the assemblage
from Beeston castle in Cheshire (Cumberpatch 2002, 194; Noake 1993). Originally used
to store goods belonging to wealthy Parliamentarians (Dore 1965-1966, 107), once the
castle had been captured by Royalists it was subject to a sustained siege from November
1643 until November 1645 (Keen 1993, 98). As noted by previous studies, imports
cannot be automatically equated with increased status (Courtney 1997a, 102). However,
the presence, number and variety of non-local wares at Pontefract are significant in their
contrast to Sandal, where the range of vessels were more restricted.
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The non-local wares present at Pontefract can be interpreted as a tangible evidence of
the cosmopolitan nature of the non-volunteer garrison. Although they included some
local inhabitants, the Royalist armies who were sent to Pontefract were drawn more
broadly from the rest of England as well as other countries, including the Netherlands.
Nathan Drake mentions ‘the Dutchman’ responsible for one of the principal guns of the
castle (Walker 1997, 57) and although this epithet suggests the gunner’s nationality was
unusual enough to be a source of comment, at the same time he is representative of the
heterogeneous nature of the Royalist army (Stoyle 2005, 91).
Due to the complexity of trade during this period, non-local wares cannot be directly
linked to the consumer (Allan 1983, 37-39). However, the diversity of the assemblage
from the castle is representative of the wide background of its inhabitants. Of particular
note are three manganese mottled tin-glazed earthenware vessels (PONT1480, 1481 and
1482) produced in London c.1625-1650 (Garner and Archer 1972, 6; Cumberpatch
2002, 193)29 and a press-moulded slipware dish (PONT1476).
The manganese mottled drinking vessels were found within the Constable Tower
garderobe distributed between contexts [98], [99] and [103]. The close association of
these three vessels suggests a discrete group of drinking vessels visibly different from
the dominant blackware drinking vessels. The presence of assemblages such as this
suggests that although drinking rituals within the castle were often aimed at increasing
group cohesion, other material culture served to differentiate participants. This may
have been through the adoption of local drinking vessels such as those with the
Wrenthorpe mark or through the use of more exotic vessels such as these drinking mugs
from London.
PONT1476 originates from context [40], one of the upper deposits from the Constable
Tower and is a press-moulded slipware dish produced in the Potteries. These vessels,
also recovered from Tutbury and Dudley Castles, were first produced in the mid-17th
century (Barker 2011, 222). Although only representing less than 5% of the vessel, the
29
Examples are also stored within the Museum of London, for example accession nos. 21881 and 25262.
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presence of these sherds is further evidence that, alongside outdated material, more
modern artefacts were incorporated within social discourse at the castle.
8.4.7 Vessel form
Given the low number of vessels at least 5% complete from any area apart from the
Constable Tower (see table 8.1), only the 261 vessels from this area can be analysed in
great detail. The other areas are also summarised here but the findings are only tentative
due to the low number of vessels represented, with the Bakehouse and Elizabethan
Chapel producing less than ten vessels at least 5% complete and the Kitchen and King’s
Tower only twenty one and eighteen respectively.
8.4.7.1 The Constable Tower
Analysis of the assemblage from the Constable Tower shows the same dominance of
drinking vessels as at Sandal, with 39% of the assemblage (74 vessels) consisting of this
form (see fig. 8.7). However, there are significant differences to Sandal, in particular a
higher number of heavy duty storage vessels (21% of vessels at Pontefract compared to
9% at Sandal) and a far lower number of small storage vessels (3% compared to 14%).
The large number of heavy duty of storage vessels is suggestive of Pontefract’s role as
long-term garrison and stronghold, with plenty of stored provisions to feed its
inhabitants. Nathan Drake lists the original garrison as being 183 strong but this is only
a list of the gentlemen and volunteers of the siege and does not include women, children
or temporary troops, such as the 140 which marched to Newark on 8th January 1645
(Walker 1997, 5-6, 11). The casualties from disease alone during the first and second
sieges totalled 99 individuals, the approximate population of the Sandal garrison
(Walker 1997, 4). Accounts of the third siege suggest around 600 inhabitants, of which
120 to 140 individuals survived (Holmes 1887, 319). Unlike Sandal, which was never
intended to withstand a long, drawn-out siege, Pontefract required sufficient stored
foodstuffs to withstand the months of sieges it endured and therefore had a far greater
number of cisterns and large storage jars. This also explains the lack of small storage
vessels (just five), as these were insufficient for the needs of the large groups of people
inhabiting Pontefract during this period.
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The need for large-scale consumption is also demonstrated through a comparison of the
number of jugs and costrels at both Pontefract and Sandal. At the latter, three jugs and
nine costrels or flasks were identified compared to thirteen jugs and eight costrel or
flasks identified at Pontefract. This bias towards liquid transportation vessels more
suited to group consumption supports the hypothesis that the assemblage at Pontefract
reflects the need to equip the castle with ceramics more suited to large group
consumption as opposed to the far smaller groups at Sandal. However, a similar
proportion of cooking vessels at both castles suggests some consumption within small
groups still occurred at Pontefract, as pipkins have a far smaller capacity when
compared to larger metal vessels such as cauldrons.
In addition to these broad trends, once the assemblage is separated into the two phases
of looting and clearance as identified by cross-matching sherds (see 8.4.2.1), there are
observable distinctions.
8.4.7.1.1 Initial looting
The most significant feature of the initial deposits within the Constable Tower (see fig.
8.8) is the large proportion of drinking vessels, comprising 50% of the total assemblage
(thirteen vessels). This is associated with a decrease in heavy duty storage vessels,
which represent just 13% of the assemblage (five vessels) and there is also a slight
decrease in fine storage vessels to 7% of the assemblage (two vessels). This suggests the
use of the Constable Tower for communal drinking, a feature shared by the motte at
Sandal (see above, 7.8.1). However, the presence of all forms apart from food serving
vessels within these deposits suggests that the area around the tower was a multipurpose
site, albeit with drinking playing a major role.
8.4.7.1.1.1 Context 116
Context 116 has previously been noted for its significant number of archaic wares,
including Cistercian ware (see above, 8.4.4). It also represents the greatest concentration
of vessels on the site, containing 176 ENV, 28 of which are at least 5% complete. This
represents 10.62% of the total assemblage from the tower, a considerable percentage
given its comparatively small size (see fig. 8.3). However, the proportion of drinking
vessels at least 5% complete (48% of the total assemblage, thirteen vessels) is
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comparable to the primary phase of deposition of which [116] is a part (see fig. 8.9). Of
greater significance is the high proportion of cooking vessels, as five of the six cooking
vessels from the Constable Tower were found within this context (this includes
PONT84, a vessel which joins across several contexts including [116]). Therefore, this
deposit would appear to represent an area of concentrated communal consumption,
albeit one which represents activities occurring in the vicinity of the tower rather than a
phenomenon restricted to this particular context. This is supported by the high density
of animal bone in this deposit, and as a result the context is discussed in greater detail
below (see 8.8.1).
8.4.7.1.2 Subsequent clearance and demolition
The demolition deposits from the Constable Tower are markedly different from those
that precede them (see fig. 8.10). Heavy duty storage vessels comprise one third of the
total assemblage (27 vessels), with drinking vessels representing only 26% of the total
in contrast to their domination of deposits elsewhere (21 vessels). Fine storage vessels
are also present in a greater proportion, 14 vessels forming 17% of the assemblage. The
dominance of storage vessels and disparate profiles between the two sets of deposits
suggests a spatial separation of storage and consumption of foodstuffs. The use of these
deposits to level the Constable Tower suggests goods were stored in the vicinity rather
than within the tower, which was instead the focus of consumption. Separate storage
areas are alluded to by Drake’s diary as the provisions for officers were stored in
individual chambers (Walker 1997, 58) and it is likely that this was a trend shared
throughout the castle as a means of allotting food and drink amongst the garrison.
8.4.7.2 Other areas: the King’s Tower, Kitchen, Elizabethan Tower and
Brewhouse/Bakehouse
86 non-residual vessels were recovered from the King’s Tower, of which eighteen were
at least 5% complete. Six of these were unidentified and drinking vessels form the bulk
of the remainder (seven vessels, 59% of the total assemblage, see fig. 8.11), a
percentage comparable with the primary deposits within the Constable Tower. This is
unusual, as the King’s Tower, like the upper deposits of the Constable Tower, contains
significant amounts of masonry but the assemblage profiles of the two areas are very
different. It may be argued that this may be due to the sampling of the King’s Tower,
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resulting in a higher degree of fragmentation which, as seen in earlier chapters, results
in a bias towards smaller vessels (see above, 7.4.1.1). However, even when vessels
more than 3% complete are included in the analysis heavy duty storage vessels, despite
increasing in numbers, only form 19% of the assemblage, far less than the 33% seen
within secondary deposits of the Constable Tower (see fig. 8.12). This suggests that the
King’s Tower had less of a storage role than the area surrounding the Constable, a
conclusions supported by documentary evidence that suggests the King’s Tower was the
residence for the principal officers within the castle and thus was a focus for
entertaining rather than storage (see above, 8.2.1).
Within the kitchen 152 vessels were non-residual, of which 21 were at least 5%
complete. Fourteen identifiable vessels were at least 5% complete: three drinking
vessels, five heavy duty storage vessels, one fine storage vessel, two food serving
vessels and three liquid transportation vessels (see table 8.11). Only two heavy duty
storage vessels, PONT1074 and 1112, are from secure Civil War contexts with the
remaining vessels recovered from the Victorian excavations or later gardening activity
(Gomersall and Roberts 2002, 54-55). As a result any conclusions from this area are
tentative but the number of heavy duty storage vessels supports the use of the building
for industrial purposes (Gomersall and Roberts 2002, 53).
Only 32 non-residual vessels were recovered from an estimated 78 vessels deposited
within the Elizabethan Chapel, of which only eleven could be positively identified (see
table 8.12). Given the presence of a countermine shaft within this area, the low number
of vessels (only four identified vessels originated from the shaft) is indicative of a low
density of occupation within the area during the Civil War. As the area was used for
burials during the sieges, with three still containing human remains when excavated
(Roberts 2002b, 95), this low density is to be expected, as the chapel was reserved as a
place of worship. This preservation of use is in sharp contrast to the occupation of other
sanctified buildings during this period, such as the use of Lichfield Cathedral as a
stables and the iconoclasm that took place at Lincoln Cathedral (Ellis and Atherton
2009, 238; Graves 2008a, 83). There was a high level of fragmentation (see above,
8.4.1) and only seven vessels were at least 5% complete with a drinking vessel, two
liquid transportation vessels, a food preparation vessel, a small storage vessel and a
cooking vessel all represented (three further vessels were unidentified). The lack of
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drinking vessels is apparent in all identified vessels from the area, with food preparation
vessels being dominant and comprising six out of the eleven vessels recovered
(54.55%). Although the number of vessels is small, this would suggest food was
prepared near the Chapel, particularly as four of these vessels form a discrete
assemblage within the countermine shaft suggesting a discrete assemblage. This is
supported by the low number of ceramic vessels when compared with the large quantity
of armour and animal bone, as cooking vessels were predominantly manufactured from
metal such as copper alloy (Roberts 2002b, 96). As the kitchen was probably converted
into an industrial workshop (see above), the privy kitchen, near the Chapel, was
probably adopted for culinary purposes and this is supported by the archaeological
evidence.
Of the 49 non-residual vessels recovered from the brewhouse/bakehouse, just nine
could be identified and only one of these originated from the countermine shaft
(PONT1053 which joins with a sherd from levelling deposit [3161], see table 8.13). The
area was disturbed and truncated by later activity and although the area was excavated
during the late 19th century there is little record of the finds (Holmes 1883, 49; Roberts
2002b, 33). All other pottery vessels recovered from the area are associated with the
installation of a new cobbled floor within the building incorporating fragments of 17thcentury date (Roberts 2002b, 40-41). However, this may be in preparation for the Civil
War rather than related to the occupation itself.
Although these assemblages are small their study suggests that different activities were
conducted within different areas of the castle. This is comparable with Royalist activity
at Sandal (see above, 7.8) and suggests that even during a siege, peace-time segregation
of activities and social roles were maintained. This is supported by Drake’s diary in the
final days of the second siege, as the gentlemen of the castle were only required to
surrender their own personal supply of food three days before the surrender of the castle
(Walker 1997, 58).
8.5
Vessel Glass
A total of eighteen glass vessels were recovered from Civil War contexts of which
sixteen can be identified (see table 8.14). These were found within the Constable Tower,
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the Elizabethan Chapel and the Kitchen, with no vessels recovered from either the
King’s Tower or Bakehouse/Brewhouse. Given the difficulties in glass preservation, the
lack of glass vessels from these areas and the secondary phase of deposition within the
Constable Tower may not be significant.
Although the fragmentary nature of glass means residuality is a potential problem
(Ratkai 2002, 288), the concentration of material within particular contexts suggests
their presence here is not accidental. Context [116] is of particular note as half of the
total glass assemblage (nine vessels) originates from this deposit. Consisting of five
drinking vessels, two urinals, one case bottle and one unidentified vessel, this
assemblage highlights the unusual nature of this context, particularly when considered
alongside the archaic ceramics also deposited here as at least one glass (Ratkai 2002,
288, fig. 117.7) is of probable 16th-century date (H. Willmott, pers. comm.; see above,
8.4.7.1.1.1). The assemblage also contains two urinals (Ratkai 2002, 288, figs. 117.10
and 117.11) which date from the 16th century at the latest and thus were decidedly
outdated by the Civil War (Willmott 2002, 103). Similar vessels are present around the
motte at Sandal castle (see above, 7.8.1) and may have been associated with alcohol
production and consumption rather than medicinal purposes. Therefore, the glass
assemblage from [116] highlights the significance of communal consumption within
this context.
The assemblages from other areas of the castle are too small to be conclusive but the
case bottles from the Elizabethan Chapel (one from grave fill [118] and one from upper
countermine fill [269]) may suggest some medical aid was offered in the vicinity, as
these bottles were often used as containers for medicine (see above, 7.5). As at Sandal
(see above, 7.8.3), the location of burial is closely linked with the location of treatment
and the preparation of food. Although the link between medicine and food has already
been discussed (see above, 3.3), at Pontefract this area also highlights the presence and
role of women within the garrison. Nathan Drake includes several references to women
within his diary, including the wife of Gervaise Cutler who entered the castle to support
her dying husband and an individual shot during the second siege whilst ‘gathring of
pott hearbes’ (Walker 1997, 49, 34). This is supported by archaeological evidence, as a
probable female was interred in the Chapel during the conflict (Burgess and Winfield
2002, 398), but whilst the presence of women within the theatre of war should be noted,
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it should not be overstated. Although women played a role in food preparation and the
treatment of the sick and wounded, men also fulfilled these roles as cooks and surgeons
and as a result it is impossible to draw a distinction in this context between strictly male
and female roles (contra Yentsch 1991). However, this does not mean the presence of
women in warfare should be completely ignored, as a study of their role reveals
important insights into the maintenance of traditional social discourse during a time of
conflict (see below, 9.3).
8.6
Other items associated with food and drink
22 other objects associated with the consumption of food and drink were identified:
thirteen knife handles, five spoons, two plates or bowls, one cauldron or skillet and a
small wooden bung which may be related to use with a cistern (see table 8.15). This
number excludes a number of bone and wooden handles which were not positively
associated with knives as these may have been related to other artefacts such as tools
(e.g. Morris 2002, 323, fig. 130.7). The majority of objects, 20, were found within the
Constable Tower, with the remaining two retrieved from the Elizabethan Chapel. The
lack of objects from the kitchen, an area which produced the second highest assemblage
of pottery, supports archaeological evidence which suggests the kitchen was used as an
industrial workshop during the Civil War and thus was not the focus of food and drink
consumption (Gomersall and Roberts 2002, 52-5).
Non-ceramic and glass tablewares were distributed throughout the Constable Tower
regardless of phasing, including the garderobe and countermine shaft. There is no
particular preference for single contexts, although the presence of a cauldron or skillet
in [116] complements the high proportion of ceramic cooking vessels found within this
context (8.4.7.1). Whilst consumption practices are prevalent throughout the deposit,
[116] is strongly associated with cooking and drinking practices.
Three spoons, (Duncan 2002, 258, figs. 106.40, 106.41 and 106.42) are of particular
note due to the crudeness of their construction. Spoons were conventionally
manufactured through casting and subsequent hammer-hardening. However, these
objects were formed by cutting the spoon shape from a flat sheet of lead, which was
then hammered to shape the bowl, the stemmed being formed by rolling the sheet into a
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flattened tube (Duncan 2002, 255). This method has been noted at other Civil War
castles including Bolingbroke and Montgomery (Goodall 1976, 32, figs. 16.81 and
16.82; Knight 1993, 205) and suggests Civil War garrisons were forced to improvise
during times of crisis. This is supported by the two plates, which were not finished on a
lathe like most contemporary items and one may have even been beaten rather than cast
(Duncan 2002, 255). It has been suggested that the spoons were manufactured to replace
utensils donated to the king’s cause (Duncan 2002, 255), although this would appear to
be unlikely as lead was in high demand to create bullets and the metal contained within
a spoon would be of negligible benefit to the royalist coffers. However, the creation of
such vessels may have fulfilled the same social need as the adoption of recycled and
archaic vessels creates a group identity focused on personal loss for the greater good.
This mood is encapsulated in the statement by the garrison at the end of the third siege
that they were ‘not ashamed to live, nor afraid to die’ (Holmes 1887, 217).
8.7
The faunal evidence
The recovered faunal assemblage was published as part of the original excavation report
(Davies 2002; Nicholson 2002; Richardson 2002). However, the assemblage from the
Constable Tower was analysed within the five historical phases, which have been reevaluated in the light of the ceramic assemblage (see 8.4.2.1), making the faunal
evidence difficult to interpret in its present form. As a result, the original data for
remains more than 50% complete (Richardson unpublished.) has been reanalysed by
context to gain a better understanding of consumption practices within the tower30.
Analysis of contexts within the Constable Tower containing significant amounts of
animal bone (see fig. 8.13) shows a broad shift from a high proportion of sheep within
the lower deposits to a dominance of cattle in the upper deposits. For example, cattle
form a third of faunal remains in context [209] but half of all remains in context [82]. In
particular, deposits above context [98] show an increased proportion of cattle coinciding
with the decreased importance of sheep. Apart from the increased consumption of cattle
there is little to differentiate between primary and secondary deposits within the
Constable Tower, as the elevated proportion of cattle within these contexts are shared
30
The author is indebted to Jane Richardson for the provision of this database.
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by contexts such as [98] and [90], which are associated with immediate deposition
within the tower. In addition, the seven contexts with more than 50 representative bones
(see fig. 8.14), show only a slight rise in the amount of cattle consumed. Instead there is
a marked contrast between [98] and deeper deposits [99], [104/114] and [116]. The
variation between these three deposits, [99] with an elevated proportion of cattle
(50.98% of the total), [104/114] with an elevated proportion of pig (34.48%), and [116]
with an elevated proportion of sheep (59.13%), highlights the individual nature of each
deposit which, until this reanalysis, had been masked by attempts to study them by
historical phases. Rather than representing differing procurement strategies as the siege
progressed (Richardson 2002, 366) the differing animals consumed may instead
represent separate zones or episodes of communal consumption within the castle.
When considering faunal assemblages as representative of zones of consumption, rather
than different phases of the siege, other fauna deposited within the castle become
significant. Amongst these animals is deer, comprising of 2.7% of the total animal
assemblage. Although not as prevalent as Sandal (see above, 7.7), the same social
importance can still be seen in terms of social prestige. Most notably deer are largely
present within context [116] which contains 36.43% of the total bone from the
Constable Tower (588 out of 1614 within the archive database), but 76.19% (32 out of
42 bones) of the total deer assemblage. The concentration of deer within a single deposit
highlights the important nature of this context and suggests that this foodstuff was either
confined to a single event during the siege or was not universally available to all the
inhabitants of the castle. Contexts 104/114 and 116 also include six turkey bones (two
from [104/114] and four from [116]) which were a rare delicacy probably associated
with elite households (Davies 2002, 385; Fothergill 2013; J. Richardson pers. comm.).
[116] contributed a significant number of the faunal remains, 389 out of 1224 animal
bones, (31.78%) including a large amount of fish, although the exact amount cannot be
established due to the lack of wet-sieving taking place during the excavation (Nicholson
2002, 390,392).
Significantly, a number of horse bones also had evidence of butchery (Richardson 2002,
279-380). This includes three bones from context [116], one from [99], two from [82]
and three from context [116], which also contained bones from a cat and a dog with
evidence of butchery. As a result, context [116] is highly unusual as it consists of foods
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such as deer and turkey which can be classified as high status alongside animals not
normally considered as foodstuffs such as cat, dog and horse. There is some supporting
evidence for the consumption of horses at Pontefract, Drake hinting that a mare shot by
Parliamentarians was ‘fetcht...[and] made very good use of’ over two months before the
garrison surrendered, although his ambiguous statement possibly indicates his
discomfort at the consumption of the animal (Walker 1997, 28). The combination of
food within this context, whilst making it extremely unlikely that it was the result of a
single dining event, highlights the complexity of dining in a garrison where one might
enjoy venison on one occasion and be forced to consume horse a few days later.
Deprivation certainly played a significant role in the first and second siege; however,
during the third siege its role was more complex. A contemporary report attests that at
the time of the Pontefract’s surrender in March 1649 the castle had two months
provisions left, with disease and no prospect of relief playing a bigger role than
starvation in its surrender (Holmes 1887, 232, 319). Paulden also notes that the castle
was provided for by ‘several Parties almost every Night, [which] enabled us to keep the
Castle above nine Months, though we had not one Months Provision, when we were
first Beleaguer’d’ (Paulden 1702, 12). This provisioning caused much concern to the
Parliamentarians, one of whom wrote on October 28th 1648, ‘they have since I came
from London taken at least 200 head of cattle, above 100 oxen from grasiers. They
sound a parley for a cessation, & make a fair of their horses near the castle, sell them to
Sir Henry Chomley’s troopers...They have & do take much salt, corn, beasts, & horses
from the country’ (Holmes 1887, 187-188). The laxity of the Parliamentarian troops
highlights a phenomenon that will be discussed further below, namely the fraternity that
could exist both within and between the two competing sides (see below, 8.8.2).
Although the amount of animal bone deposited with the countermine shaft of the
Elizabethan Chapel has been described as ‘relatively large’ (Roberts 2002b, 96), the 261
bones recovered from shaft contexts (context [271] and [269]) is comparable with the
241 bones recovered from the countermine shaft contexts of the Constable Tower
(contexts [209], [115] and [113] (Richardson 2002, 364). When analysing the bones
more than 50% complete, there are differences between the two fills, with the
Elizabethan Chapel dominated by cattle and the Constable Tower by sheep/goat despite
similar numbers of elements analysed (41 compared with 40, see fig. 8.15). As the
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shafts were probably backfilled around the same time, the different assemblages in the
countermine shafts would appear to represent different consumption strategies within
the garrison. The comparative size of cattle compared to sheep or goats may suggest
cattle were more predominant around the Elizabethan Chapel as they were a source of
food for large communal groups as opposed to sheep or goats which being smaller were
reserved for smaller groups which may have been of higher status. This is supported by
the absence of deer in the Elizabethan Chapel despite their presence in the Constable
Tower, particularly context [116]. Although the fill of the bakehouse/brewhouse
countermine shaft is similar to the Elizabethan Chapel, only nine bones more than 50%
complete were present, representing five cattle, two sheep/goat, a rabbit and a dog. As a
result, the assemblage is too small for comprehensive analysis.
8.8
Discussion
The analysis of the consumption of food and drink at Pontefract Castle reveals the
complexity of social discourse within a large Civil War garrison. Superficially men and
officers alike were meant to share in the deprivations of conflict, but in reality the use of
separate areas of consumption and the availability of different foodstuffs meant
hierarchies were just as strictly maintained during the conflict as in peacetime.
However, Drake’s diary and other contemporary accounts demonstrate that various
mechanisms were employed to encapsulate a community spirit amongst those who
garrisoned the castle, including the need for all to agree on continued resistance at the
end of the second siege and the provision of a commemorative medal to all who were
involved in the seizing of the castle at the beginning of the third siege (Walker 1997,
58-59; Wright 2002, 285).
The development and maintenance of communality amongst the garrison was clearly
important and manifests itself within the archaeological record in many ways, but there
are two features in particular which require further discussion. These are the communal
consumption of food and drink as encapsulated within context [116] and the
maintenance of peacetime social hierarchies within all aspects of material culture
throughout the sieges.
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8.8.1 Communality and conviviality, the case of context [116]
In terms of vessel form, there is little to differentiate context [116] from other primary
fills within the Constable Tower apart from the relatively high number of cooking
vessels (see above, 8.4.7.1.1.1). However, the context has a high proportion of vessel
glass as well as a higher than average number of archaic vessels (see above, 8.5, 8.4.4).
There are also a large proportion of deer bones within the assemblage, far more than all
the other Civil War contexts combined (see above, 8.7). The group when considered in
its entirety is indicative of an assemblage resulting primarily from the communal
consumption of food and drink, some of which may have been considered as high
status.
Although hierarchy was maintained throughout the three sieges, efforts were made to
engender a feeling of communality between all members of the garrison. The large
number of drinking vessels in the primary contexts of the Constable Tower and their
comparatively low density in other contexts indicates that communal drinking played an
important role within the garrison, only occurring within specific areas. The importance
of communal drinking has been identified elsewhere (see above, 3.6.2), but is
particularly pertinent to the Pontefract garrison, where it formed not only a bond
between disparate social groups but also between members of opposing garrisons within
all the sieges.
Drake mentions communal drinking on several occasions, most notably on 12th May
1645 when:
‘this night, about 9 a Clock, our Gentlemen and Souldyers being merily disposed, did
drinke (whole…) heallthes (of the New well water) to tho King & all his good friends,
pledging one another with such hallowes and Showtes, as the e’emy, vondring what
should be the Cause of such sudden Joy, Tooks an allarum, drew out all theire horse
into the feild and dobled all theire gaurdes (wch pleased us well)’
(Walker 1997, 30)
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This extract is important for several reasons. Firstly it highlights the important role
played by communal drinking within the garrison, to the extent that water was used as a
substitute for alcohol in drinking rituals when the latter was unavailable. Secondly the
participation of both gentlemen and soldiers within the same experience is indicative of
the important role played by drink in engendering a shared identity. The use of pledges
within the garrison is particularly important as it lent a veneer of civility to the siege,
being commonly associated with consumption amongst the middling classes and elite,
with treatises specifying their correct usage (O’Callaghan 2004, 44; for a further
exploration of this see below, 9.5.1). This can clearly be seen during the third siege,
when both Parliamentarians and Royalists met sporadically and ‘in the cessation [of
hostilities] they drink to one another, ‘here is to thee, Brother Roundhead’ and ‘I thank
thee, Brother Cavalier’’ (Holmes 1887, 188). Even though besiegers and besieged
employed derogatory sobriquets for their opponents, the use of alcohol in the shared
experience of two sides highlights an important aspect to the conflict, namely that apart
from their allegiance there was little to differentiate the two sides. Certainly when there
was an excuse for fraternisation between the two sides it was seized upon, for example
soldiers on both sides robbed an orchard together during the second siege (Walker 1997,
50).
The important role played by the past within these acts of conviviality is indicated by
the high concentration of archaic ceramic and glass vessel forms, including Cistercian
ware, transitional blackware/Cistercian ware and urinals, all found within context [116].
Unlike other contexts, [116] also contains a large number of sooted vessels alongside a
moderately large number of deer bones, indicating communal consumption of food as
well as drink. The deer almost certainly originated from the nearby royal deer park
despite reports these were removed by Parliamentarian troops before the
commencement of the first siege (Fox 1987, 14). The presence of a royal foodstuff
amongst archaic forms, some of which were identifiable as local products (see above,
8.4.5), indicates the importance the past played within the garrison.
8.8.2 The preservation of tradition
The archaic material deposited within the castle was not restricted to ceramics and glass,
but also included a substantial amount of obsolete armour. This was predominantly
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deposited within the garderobe and countermine fills of all buildings apart from the
King’s Tower, although this omission is probably due to the limited excavations here.
Amongst the militaria deposited were a jack of plate from the Constable Tower, dating
from the mid to late 16th century and a collar from the Constable Tower dating from
1550-1575. Other outdated armour included two early-17th century helmets called
morions recovered from the Elizabethan Chapel and Bakehouse, which were based on a
late 16th-century design (Eaves 2002, 325-326, 341). In addition two bolt-heads and a
limestone ball were also recovered within 17th century deposits but were ascribed as
residual finds rather than archaic weapons used during the siege (Eaves 2002, 324-325).
However, accounts of the third siege at Pontefract state that the defenders used
limestone balls due to a shortage of metal cannonballs culminating in the death of a
besieger (Holmes 1887, 210). As a result, although one of the bolts has been firmly
assigned as an example of a 12th-14th century siege-engine bolt, it may be that either or
both were also utilised within the 17th-century sieges. The employment of archaic
armour alongside archaic pottery forms within a building supposedly obsolete by the
Civil War raises important questions about the impact of using such items within this
particular social context.
The symbolic use of the castle as the embodiment of the wider community was not a
new phenomenon, its status as a royal residence meaning the town had the potential to
become the ‘Windsor of the North’ (Quinn 1992, 55). However, the adoption of this
symbolism by the inhabitants of the castle alongside archaic material culture is of
particular note. Although representative of a garrison forced to extremes, inhabiting a
building and utilising armour and pottery which were hardly the height of fashion, their
adoption within the castle was used to form a unique identity which endured throughout
the conflict. In many ways the garrison saw themselves as upholding the kingdom, is it
significant that the Parliamentarians are described by Drake as being ‘p’tners wth
Guydo Faulkes to dive downewardes to the divell’ (Walker 1997, 13). The
Parliamentarian besiegers were thus aligned with previous threats to the kingdom with
the besieged Royalists attempting to preserve age-old tradition.
If the adoption of an outdated institution was highly symbolic, then the destruction of
the material culture alongside the castle itself must have the same importance. Although
previous investigations surrounding the destruction of Pontefract have highlighted the
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political significance of this act (Rakoczy 2008b), the social significance must also be
considered. As much of the armour is present in the lowest deposits within the castle,
their abandonment must have been a deliberate act of discard, abandoning unwanted
and outmoded equipment before a more careful selection of other material. The
destruction of archaic forms is paralleled by other fortifications such as Eccleshall (see
above, 6.7) and as a result requires further investigation in the following chapter.
8.9
Conclusion
The archaeological record at Pontefract, although fragmentary, demonstrates the
complexity of a garrison in which peacetime roles were maintained as much as possible.
There are striking similarities with the nearby garrison at Sandal in terms of the material
culture used, although this is to be expected given the proximity of the two garrisons in
terms of geography and cultural affinity. The differences between the two can be
attributed to the different roles they played within Royalist strategy, Sandal being in
effect a small outpost and supplier of material to its larger and stronger neighbour.
However, the predominant theme throughout Pontefract is the role tradition played in
the formation of a communal identity reinforced through the communal consumption of
food and drink. The presence of social rituals such as toasting alongside archaic material
culture from drinking vessels to armour emphasised the precarious position held by the
Royalists as well as highlighting the threat of change should the Parliamentarians
persevere. As will be demonstrated in the next chapter, Pontefract is not an isolated
example and tradition played an important role not only in the maintenance of Civil
War garrisons but also their eventual destruction.
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9 Tradition and Conviviality
9
Tradition and Conviviality: social discourse within castles during
the English Civil War
‘It is Historie...that hath given us life in our understanding since the World it self had
life and beginning, even to this day’ (Dugdale 1656, preface)
9.1
Introduction
Despite the disparate roles played by the three castles in this thesis, one phenomenon is
present at all of them. Tradition was of paramount importance to the garrisons of
Eccleshall, Pontefract and Sandal, as can be seen through the adoption of archaic
material, the maintenance of group identity and the importance placed on drinking
rituals. The assemblages from other strongholds that participated within the conflict,
such as Beeston, Montgomery and Basing House, demonstrate that these sites are not
isolated examples of the importance of tradition, and as a result this trend needs to be
examined in greater detail.
Just as it is impossible to analyse castles in temporal isolation, so the past played a vital
role in shaping and determining the social discourse of Civil War garrisons. This
chapter will explore the importance of traditional practice within the Civil War and
demonstrate how these were crucial in the maintenance of group identity during the
conflict. In addition, it will discuss how the reaction against traditional practice resulted
in the destruction of the same material culture after the Civil War alongside the
slighting of the buildings in which they were consumed.
9.2
The importance of tradition in the Civil War
The importance of tradition within the Civil War is demonstrated by events both before
and during the conflict. Although there are strong parallels between the conflict and the
30 Years War in Central Europe (Roy 1978), there are also many differences including
the reduced level of atrocities and the emphasis on command by birth rather than by
merit (Donagan 1988, 66; Manning 2007, 673). Despite the employment by both sides
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of continental weaponry, tactics and men trained in continental warfare (Roy 1978, 130132), there are many instances, particularly during the first Civil War, which indicate
traits that are essentially medieval in nature.
Tradition played a strong role in the way in which the Civil War was initially
conducted, with both sides choosing weaponry and tactics which were throwbacks to
the past. Even before the Civil War, Charles I’s reaction against social mobility led to a
number of families producing extensive genealogies to prove their ancestry, and in 1640
the Great Council, a medieval institution, met to advise Charles on the aftermath of the
Bishops’ Wars in Scotland (Stone 1972, 125).
In addition to an increased interest in past conflicts (Adamson 1990, 95), literature on
contemporary tactics emphasised the importance of the pitched battle, eschewing other
forms of warfare which were seen as medieval and unimaginative (Parker 1996, 6).
However, medieval style skirmishes and sieges predominate during the Civil War,
despite the fact that ‘in eschewing battle commanders were following medieval
precedent’ (Tullett 1992, 52). Aside from the employment of medieval weaponry and
siege tactics (see below, 9.4), the importance of tradition can also be seen in the way in
which military bodies, particularly officers, conducted themselves during the period.
This is most notable in an exchange between the Earl of Newcastle and Ferdinando,
Lord Fairfax31 in February 1643, when they were both fighting for control of the north
of the kingdom. In order to bring the conflict to a swift conclusion, the Royalist
Newcastle suggested a trial by combat which was ‘more conformable to the examples of
our heroicke ancestors, who used not to spend their time in scratching one another out
of holes, but in pitched Fields determined their doubts’ (Newcastle 1643, 9). Fairfax’s
derogatory reply to Newcastle mocked him for emulating ‘the Knight of the Sun, which
the language [of the] Declaration seemes to affect in appointing pitch’d [bat]tells’ and
was ‘couched in terms of a disdain for the empty gestures of the knights of chivalric
romance’ (Fairfax 1643; Adamson 1994, 185).
31
Ferdinando, Lord Fairfax was the father of Sir Thomas Fairfax, Captain-General of the New Model
Army.
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9 Tradition and Conviviality
In addition to shaping the tactics and weaponry employed during the fighting itself,
local traditions played a large part in dictating people’s loyalties, far more indeed than
national concerns about constitution and religion (Morrill 1993, 181). For example,
Yorkshire had a long-standing tradition of rebelling against any reforming force; a
significant portion of the gentry had taken part in the Pilgrimage of Grace against the
reforms of Henry VIII, and many of them again rebelled against what they saw as the
southern interference of Parliament (Hill 1991, 4). Rather than view the Civil War as a
conflict between the upper classes and the ‘middling’ sort (Johnson 2002, 174-175), the
Civil War was far more complex, reflecting the nuances of both past and present
concerns. Even after the Civil War the shift of power was not from elite to middling
classes, but from greater to lesser landowners (Morrill 1993, 211). Political and social
change was not uniform across the kingdom and Wales and England’s north and west
proved particularly stagnant.
The study of siege sites during this period indicates that tradition was not only
maintained, but was actively constructed through the use of ancient sites. An unfinished
well and two inhumations at the Neolithic Maumbury Rings, Dorset testify to the fact
that its Parliamentarian forces were earnest in their efforts to refortify the historical
location, despite its lack of heavy defences (Bradley 1976, 82-3). Iron Age hilllforts
such as Hambledon Hill, Dorset were also used as defensive positions during the course
of the conflict,32 and medieval walls were strengthened at many towns including
Chester, Bristol and Oxford (Underdown 1979, 32; Ward 1987, 18-19; Cox 1997;
Durham et al. 1983, 14). Despite the fact that the military merit of many of these
locations was at best dubious, their fortification indicates that these sites, traditionally
viewed as defensible, were actively interpreted as such by those who occupied them.
Alongside other historic institutions, tradition also played a role in the fortification of
castles. Although some, like Pontefract, were defensively viable the same cannot be said
for less fortified buildings such as Eccleshall or largely ruined castles such as Sandal.
The fact that the king ordered the fortification of Eccleshall rather than the Bishop of
32
Hambledon Hill was occupied in August 1645 by Clubmen opposing Oliver Cromwell’s soldiers rather
than a troop of Royalists (Underdown 1979, 32).
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9 Tradition and Conviviality
Lichfield (see above, 2.8.1), indicates that even when fortification protected a person’s
dwelling this may not have been the main reason behinds its fortification. On the
contrary, it can be demonstrated that the occupation of many castles, particularly those
that were ruined, was influenced by the events that had occurred there in the past. This
is certainly the case for Sandal (see above, 7.3), but can also be argued for other
fortifications such as Stafford Castle, which was described as ruinous in 1634, but was
occupied, albeit briefly, by the Royalist Lady Isabel Stafford in 1643 (Darlington and
Soden 2007, 223). Although it might be argued that their occupation was due to
necessity, as England did not possess the modern fortifications of the continent (Hutton
and Reeves 1998, 202), this is negating the impact they had on contemporary social
discourse.
9.3
The maintenance of tradition
The maintenance of tradition can be seen in the differentiated zones of activity
identifiable within the composition of assemblages at excavated sites. Due to the nature
of the excavation this is particularly apparent at Sandal, where clear differentiation can
be seen in areas specialising in the consumption of drink and others focussing on the
preparation of foodstuffs (see above, 7.8). Similar patterns can also be observed at
Pontefract (see above, 8.4.7), Eccleshall (6.3.3) and at other excavated sites such as
Beeston.
The excavations at Beeston show distinct differences between the two principal areas of
the castle; the Outer Gateway and Inner Ward (see fig. 9.1). Although drinking vessels
predominate within both areas, the assemblage within the outer ward produced all the
food preparation vessels and a high concentration of slipware dishes and bowls (131
vessels in total, 25.5% of the total assemblage). This suggests the preparation and
consumption of food took place in the Outer Ward and the area near the Outer Gateway
rather than the Inner Ward, which may have been used for storage (Noake 1993, 3:C14).
This is supported by the Royalist account of their capture of the castle on 13th December
1643, when they ‘assaulted the castle and presently fell upon the river ward (where the
greatest part of their provision and all their ammunition was stored up) and very
couragiously soone made themselves masters of it, which caused the Rebells to betake
themselves to the severall Towers of the Castle, where having little provision and no
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Ammunition they desired a treaty’ (Heylyn 1643e, 716). The ‘river ward’ is almost
certainly the inner ward, which as the most protected area of the castle was the most
suitable place for the storage of goods and foodstuffs. The concentration of provisions
within this area contrasts with consumption patterns, suggesting the consumption of
food took place in a large area where communal dining was more practicable. This is
supported by the tin-glazed vessels which are present in the Outer Gateway, the only
location in the castle where they occur. Unlike other sites such as Sandal and Pontefract
where tin-glazed vessels are present as small storage jars or drinking vessels, here
dishes predominate; of eight identified vessels five are dishes or bowls, one is a jug and
two are drinking vessels. The presence of relatively rare fabrics such as tin-glazed wares
within an area with a high percentage of food preparation and serving vessels suggests
communal consumption between both officers and men, a theme which will be explored
in further detail below (see below, 9.5).
Contemporary documentation also supports the communal role of the outer ward, as the
Parliamentarian governor of the castle, Captain Steele, was executed after he entertained
the Royalist Thomas Sandford in ‘his Lodginge in the Lower Warde’ (Malbon 1889, 91;
Barratt 1995, 5). The location of this incident coincides with the deposition of glass
vessels around the Outer Gatehouse, representing the entire glass assemblage recovered
from the castle with the exception of a single glass handle (Ellis 1993b, 121-126).
However, whilst eating and drinking may have been communal, other activities were
strictly segregated. For example, the concentration of fashionable spurs and other
equipment around the Inner Ward contrasts with deposits of antiquated armour around
the Outer Gateway (Ellis 1993c, 213). This highlights the possibility that the officers
were quartered within the Inner Ward, similar to Pontefract where officers may have
had separate quarters in the towers (see above, 3.6.1; Noake 1993, 3:C14).
Although any identification of women and children in the archaeological record is at
best tenuous (Harrington 2004, 116), the maintenance of separate zones of activity
around the site also hints at the involvement of women, who also usually occupied
traditional roles despite the unusual times. Even when they defended their home,
women such as Brilliana Harley and Charlotte, Countess of Derby at Brampton Bryan
Castle and Lathom House respectively, were described as fulfilling a man’s role;
Brilliana Harley making clear that her defence of Brampton Bryan was due to the trust
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placed in her by her absent husband, whilst the Countess of Derby’s defence was
apparently all the more remarkable for her sex (Bath 1904, 12; Hughes 2012, 38).
Although such ‘heroic’ defences by women were often highlighted in the Royalist
newspapers, chivalric elements in which feeble women defied an evil opponent, were
usually heavily emphasised, whilst Parliamentarians and Royalists alike heavily
criticised women of the opposite side who were perceived to be too masculine (Hutton
and Reeves 1998, 200; Hughes 2012, 39).
Women during the conflict occupied traditional roles; their role as carer can clearly be
seen at Pontefract where Sir Gervaise Cutler’s wife entered the garrison to tend him on
his deathbed and other forms of comfort were offered at Dudley, as evidenced by the
condoms found there (Walker 1997, 49; Gaimster et al. 1996). In addition, several
women gave birth during or shortly after a Civil War siege, including Dorothy
Beaumont at Dudley Castle, Lady Anne Savile at Sheffield and the wife of Governor
Morris at Pontefract Castle (Gaimster et al. 1996, 132; Holmes 1887, 217). The baby
from Dudley died without being named, but the babies from Sheffield and Pontefract
were baptised Talbot and Castilian respectively. These names are significant as they
demonstrate the paramount importance placed on tradition.
Lady Anne Savile, who oversaw the last days of the Royalist garrison at Sheffield castle
before being forced to surrender to Parliament on 11th August 1644, gave birth to her
son Talbot shortly afterwards, her husband Sir William having been killed near York in
the previous January. The name of her son, Talbot, is an adoption of the family name of
the Earls of Shrewsbury who were prominent landholders in the early post-medieval
period, owning extensive tracts of land including Sheffield Castle and Sheffield Manor
(Bernard 1985, 163). The 10th Earl, John Talbot, sided with the King on the outbreak of
war and played a role in the Worcester garrison when it was besieged by Parliament. Sir
William Savile was directly related to the Earls of Shrewsbury, being the great grandson
of the 6th Earl, and the choice of name for his last son indicates strongly a need to
demonstrate dynastic lineage at a time when they appeared to be threatened by the
victory of a Parliamentarian army in a town which was synonymous with the power of
the Shrewsbury line. William Morris’ son Castilian was born during the third siege of
Pontefract and was baptised with a name with recognisable links to the place in which
his father, if not his mother, was confined (Holmes 1887, 217). The adoption of these
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names at a time of great crisis indicated the importance placed on tradition in
legitimising the threatened garrisons beliefs and rights.
Examples such as these demonstrate how tradition was maintained within Civil War
garrisons through peacetime rituals, zones of discourse and the naming of children. This
fitted into a broader social pattern, where formerly frivolous masques and balls now
served to idealise the Carolingian influence by reflecting on the halcyon days of the
king’s reign (Smuts 1987, 287-8). The adoption of courtly rituals to create a specifically
royalist identity is clearly demonstrated through the use of drinking in the creation of
the Cavalier persona (see below, 9.5.1.1).
9.4
The construction of tradition
The influence tradition had on the garrisons is encapsulated by the siege coinage from
Scarborough, Pontefract and Colchester. All three types of currency prominently feature
a castle on the reverse of coinage produced by the Royalist garrisons besieged within
them. Their presence on coins, which were lead or, in the case of Scarborough, no more
than strips of silver plate (Firth 1917, 585), emphasises the importance the castle played
in symbolising the resolution and loyalty the various garrisons possessed. During the
medieval period the castle had long been a symbol steeped in ideology (Wheatley 2004,
146), but its adoption alongside such sentiments as those displayed on the Pontefract
coinage, which replaced Charles I with Charles II following the former’s execution in
January 164933, demonstrates it was still a potent symbol (Wright 2002, 286). However,
it should be noted that siege coinage from Newark and Carlisle, both besieged by
Parliamentarians during the first Civil War, omitted the castle as it was predominantly
the town, albeit incorporating the castle, which was under attack (RCHM 1964, 73;
Tullie 1988, 13). This makes the coinage from Colchester all the more remarkable as the
castle was adopted as the symbol of the besieged garrison despite the whole town being
surrounded. The castle had long been the symbol of Colchester, its presence on a civil
seal from the 15th century seen as a representation of ‘continuity between the ancient
past and medieval present (Wheatley 2004, 41) and the same can be said for the siege
coinage.
33
The coins are dated 1648 due to the difference in the Julian and Gregorian calendars
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9 Tradition and Conviviality
The presence of castles on the siege coinage of Pontefract and Colchester is particularly
significant as the two sieges were during the second, rather than first, Civil War. At a
time when feudal practices and beliefs are meant to have become obsolete (Adamson
1990, 117-118), their adoption as the emblem of two of the besieged garrisons from this
conflict is particularly important. This sentiment is echoed by the ‘broaken Castle’
depicted on the Scarborough Castle Civil War coins along with the motto ‘Caroli
fortuna resurgam’ (the fortunes of Charles will rise again) (Firth 1917, 585). Although
issued during the first Civil War, the celebration of the Keep at Scarborough, shattered
in half during the siege (Rakoczy 2007, 180), demonstrates how the castle came to
symbolise resistance in the desperate, and futile, struggle that marked the final attempts
of the Royalists to place Charles I back on the throne. The adoption of tradition by
Royalists in the face of defeat is also seen through the use of drinking rituals, as will be
seen below (see below, 9.5.1).
It is in this context, in which the castle was a key symbol of the maintenance of
traditional ways of life, that the social discourse which occurred within its walls needs
to be discussed. Studies of all three castles have revealed a surprisingly high proportion
of anachronistic material culture deposited at these sites, not only in the form of
material culture associated with dining practices but also armour and other militaria.
Armour such as jacks of plate was used in the late medieval period but ‘were oldfashioned to the point of ridicule’ by the Civil War (Eaves 1989, 91). Aside from
Pontefract and Sandal, their presence at sites including Beeston (Eaves 1989) and St.
Paul-in-the-Bail well, Lincoln (Egan 2008, 70) suggests their use was widespread
during the conflict. Amongst the 17th-century debris in the well at Taunton Castle was a
brown bill dating to the 16th century (Ralegh Radford and Hallam 1953, 79), whilst at
Montgomery castle 600 fragments of armour were recovered, most of which dated from
the mid-16th century and which may have been seized from captured Royalists
following the battle of Montgomery (Knight 1993, 223-225). Given the relative lack of
experience of a substantial number of combatants and the difficulties in supplying them
with arms and armour, the adoption of anachronistic militaria is unsurprising,
particularly as men had been responsible for their own armour since the late 16th century
and were unlikely to update their protection on a regular basis (Eaves 2002, 325).
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However, in some contexts such weaponry and armour was actively embraced. Bows
and arrows, despite being archaic, were still employed, most notably at the siege of
Colchester where the Parliamentarian demands to surrender were returned to their hosts
on arrows covered with faeces (Brady 2006, 15). Arrowheads and crossbow bolts have
also been recovered from Civil War contexts at Montgomery (Knight 1993, 228) and at
the sieges of Basing and Corfe medieval-style sows were employed to protect the
Parliamentarian defenders, although with little success at the latter as they were not
musket proof (Godwin 1904, 241).
It should be noted that antiquated armour was not just restricted to the Civil War, with
jacks of plate also appearing in North American colonial contexts such as James Fort,
relating to a gift from King James I in 1622 including 400 bows and 40 jacks. However,
rather than being a gift of unwanted and outdated material, this consignment was put to
good use in warfare uniquely designed to combat the lightly-armed skirmish tactics of
the native Americans (Straube 2006, 33-34). In a similar way, outdated castles and
outdated armour were adopted in England in a system of warfare which, whilst having
many similarities with the war on the Continent, was less professional and thus could
include more unusual selections of weaponry and defences. Nevertheless, the embracing
of medieval weaponry at times of crisis highlights the important link they formed
between past conflicts and the present.
The presence of antiquated drinking vessels of both ceramic and glass at all three sites
has already been seen as validating the viewpoint of the castles’ occupants and, in many
cases, defining the identity for which they were fighting for (see above, 6.3.7, 7.4.5 and
8.4.4). However, there are difficulties in distinguishing wares actively used during the
Civil War and vessels which are residual. The similarity of later Cistercian ware with
early blackwares can lead to difficulties in distinguishing the two and doubt has been
cast on the interpretations of some Civil War sites. For example, supposedly Civil War
contexts at Bolingbroke Castle containing Cistercian ware have been queried by more
recent research suggesting these contexts are from an earlier period and were merely
dated to the Civil War through the need to associate archaeological phases with
historical events (Coppack 1976, 15; Boyle 2006, 201). Furthermore, antiquated
ceramic vessels do not appear at all sites, at Dudley for example no Cistercian ware was
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present within 17th-century contexts (S. Ratkai pers. comm.). Nevertheless, where
present they demonstrate a clear continuation of past traditions in the present.
Whether it was in the material culture used, the buildings inhabited or the tactics
adopted, tradition was present amongst all ranks of both armies. Within a garrison, and
particularly when that garrison came under duress, the maintenance of traditional ways
become important, both in terms of public and, in the case of the Dudley condoms,
private activities (Gaimster et al. 1996). The sentiment that the ‘world turn’d upside
down’ was a popular one during the Civil War (e.g. Anon 1646; Taylor 1647) and as a
result the maintenance of a normality of sorts was essential. The use of the castle as a
symbol for besieged garrisons indicates how anachronistic imagery and objects were
used to construct the traditions for which the Royalists in particular were fighting to
preserve.
9.5
Tradition and conviviality
The importance of dining as a group is noted in the records of many of the garrisons,
most notably at Great Chalfield (see above, 7.8.3) and Sheffield, where the table was so
important that Sir William Savile wrote to Major Beaumont that ‘I have not heard any
thinge since this businesse began that I am so much displeased with, as the puttinge
downe the table at Shefeild Castle’34 (Hunter 1819, 110, 114). Episodes such as this
indicate the importance placed by commanders on communal consumption as a means
of strengthening group cohesion through shared social discourse. The rituals and
material culture employed during such activities clearly demonstrate the importance
tradition played in the construction of a shared identity, particularly amongst the
Cavaliers, who combined consumption and tradition in a flamboyant new identity.
As has previously been seen, the communal consumption of food was important in
maintaining garrisons as a cohesive unit (see above, 3.6.2). The relative absence of food
preparation vessels at many sites demonstrates the prevalence of communal cooking
methods, such as the cauldrons depicted at the battle of Naseby (fig. 3.2.). Those that do
34
There is some ambiguity to this reference, as it may also refer to a table used for religious purposes
such as an altar.
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survive are usually unusual vessels such as small Dutch cooking pots which themselves
speak of exotic practices or were out-dated by the mid-17th century. Even at palaces
such as Eccleshall, antiquated material culture such as dripping pans were used and
discarded during this period alongside the latest imports from China. As a result,
tradition pervaded all garrisons and this becomes most apparent when observing the
social discourse surrounding alcohol consumption.
9.5.1 The Social Discourse of drinking
The importance of alcohol consumption within Civil War garrisons is clearly
demonstrated by the number of drinking vessels present at the three sites studies and
others, including Montgomery and Beeston (Lewis 1968, 142; Noake 1997, 3:D1).
Where ceramic drinking vessels form only a small part of the assemblage, such as
Eccleshall and Dudley, glass drinking vessels are present in significant numbers (Ratkai
1985, n.p.; 1987, 3). Given the reputation of soldiers during this period this dominance
of drinking vessels is hardly surprising, the Marquis of Worcester stating of his garrison
at Raglan that ‘there is such swearing, and drunkennesse amongst you, that I fear me
that from thence will come your greatest enemy’ (Bayly 1650, 5). This sentiment was
shared by many, as The English Irish Souldier demonstrates (see fig. 3.1).
Key events in a siege were often associated with the consumption of drink, particularly
during negotiations between the two opposing sides. At Beeston the Parliamentarian
governor, Thomas Steele, was condemned for surrendering the castle prematurely, but
also for dining with his Royalist counterpart and sending ‘much Beere’ to the Royalist
troops based in the Upper Ward (Malbon 1889, 91). The importance of ritual within
communal drinking is exemplified by the exaggerated toasts of ‘Brother Cavalier’ and
‘Brother Roundhead’ at Pontefract, where a traditional sign of respect was combined
with an epithet designed to be an insult to the opposing side (Holmes 1997, 188; see
above, 8.8.1).
The employment of toasts at Pontefract is one example of how communal consumption
of alcohol was inextricably linked with tradition. At Pontefract the incident with the
newly broached well water indicates that so endemic were such rituals within a garrison
that even when alcohol was absent the same rituals were still employed to strengthen
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group identity (see above, 8.8.1). The importance placed by both sides on such rituals is
exemplified by the following incident whilst Royalists were ransacking Sir Richard
Mynshull’s house in Buckinghamshire:
‘the Lord Brooke with other Commanders commands the Wine-seller to be broken up:
but in a fancy imitation of greatnesse they will not drink without a Taster; yet not being
confident enough professedly to own Regall observances for prevention of danger, a
pretence was made that the Wine was poisoned, and one of Sir Richard’s servants
compelled (a Pistoll set to his breast) to begin and lead the way, that if there were any
danger the experiment might be made in him: he having gain’d a cup of Wine by their
dissembled State, they follow freely; and drink very liberally to the good successe of
their desines: without ever scrupling whether drinking so, did not come within the
nature of a health. And indeed it was an oversight that Casuist [?] Prin [?] was not
consulted in the Case, the Cup having often gone round, at last some inspired with the
Spirit of Wine prophesie that Sir Richards Treasure was buryed in the Seller, presently
they fall to digging and instead of Treasure find a Mine of Bottles: they drinke up the
Wine and in indignation breake the Bottles: from hence to coole the Wine they goe to
the Beere Seller, and in both what they could not drink, they break the vessels, & let run
on the groud’
(Ryves 1643b)
The extract is telling in several instances. Firstly, it demonstrates how rituals could be
employed in the creation of an identity; in this case the employment of a taster imitated
the practices of royalty. Secondly, it indicates how the rituals had to be employed
correctly, thus drinking to one’s own success ‘did not come within the nature of a
health’. Therefore, tradition could be employed in two ways, firstly as a means of
establishing common ground between warring factions but secondly as a weapon,
condemning a foe for not observing the proper proprieties. After 1649, the drinking of
the health increasingly came to be seen as a rebellious act, promoting drunkenness and
subterfuge (Capp 2012, 163).
The communal aspects of consumption were facilitated by the drinking vessels
themselves, many of which had multiple handles encouraging the passing of a single
vessel from hand to hand (see above, 5.3.8). The sharing of a single cup, as exemplified
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by Lord Brooke’s men, increased the awareness of a communal identity which was
clearly defined and legitimated by tradition. This communal identity was intensified at
Sandal and Pontefract where there are a significant number of drinking vessels clearly
linked to the local area through the distinctive Wrenthorpe mark (see above, 7.4.5 and
8.4.5). As many of the defenders of both Sandal and Pontefract originated from the local
area, the use of these vessels would have served as a constant reminder of the cause
supported by the garrison. As a result, drink was vital in melding men into a single,
effective fighting unit through shared experience, tradition and ritual (Carlton 1992, 82).
Nowhere is this more apparent than in the creation of the Cavalier persona.
9.5.1.1 The construction of the Cavalier identity
The term Cavalier, derived from the Latin for horseman, was originally employed as a
derogatory term for a swaggering braggart and drunkard, referred to in Shakespeare’s
Henry IV Part I as ‘I'll drink to Master Bardolph, and to all the cavaleros about
London’. Although used in this form by the Parliamentarians it was quickly adopted by
a section of Royalists as part of their image who reinterpreted the figure as a gallant,
well-born man with a strict chivalric code, elaborate courtly manners and flamboyant
dress. This was accompanied by strict rituals of consumption, for example the Cavalier
would eschew beer in favour of wine and have elaborate toasts of loyalty to the King
(Keblusek 2004, 56, 63). The character of the Cavalier is best characterised by the
conduct of the Marquesses of Winchester and Worcester, two stalwarts of the Royalist
cause. The former’s windows at Basing, largely destroyed during Parliamentarian
bombardment, were engraved with his family’s motto ‘Aymez Layaulte’ or Love
Loyalty, whilst the latter, who virtually bankrupted himself in the royal cause, refused to
forgo drinking claret even when told it would exacerbate his gout (Moorhouse 1971a,
72; Bayly 1650, 45).
Elaborate displays of loyalty increased in prominence once the possibility of defeat
became more apparent. As early as 1646 Brome wrote ‘come pass about the Gourd to
me, a health to our destroyed King’ and after 1649, when many Royalists were forced to
live in Continental exile, the Cavalier identity became even more prominent (Carlton
1992, 236; Keblusek 2004, 55). This revival of traditional ritual is also noticeable
within other cultural practices, for example the first publication of English country
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dances was issued in 1651 by John Playford, a man with known royalist sympathies.
Although puritans participated in such dances alongside the general populous, this and
other Playford publications continued traditions associated with a now discredited
regime, forming ‘a flag for Royalists to rally round’ (Lindenbaum 2001, 137). Parallels
can be drawn between this and the acceleration of bonfires towards the end of the siege
at Pontefract, when traditional forms of communication between the Sandal and
Pontefract garrisons became a vital way of maintaining morale in the face of defeat.
Drinking thus played a role in the construction of a specifically Royalist identity as well
as preserving social cohesion. The importance of alcohol consumption is, however, also
demonstrated by the locations where it took place. Although drinking vessels are
present within almost all Civil War deposits, their concentration at particular locations,
such as the motte at Sandal Castle, is of particular note. The selection of these areas
highlights the role place played in the creation of group identity.
9.5.2 The location of drinking
Alcohol consumption was not restricted to a single locale, but at Sandal it is particularly
associated with the motte. This pattern is also observed at Dudley, where large numbers
of vessels may have been thrown from the windows or top of the Keep (Ratkai 1985,
n.p.). At Pontefract, Nathan Drake’s diary indicates these locations were also
inextricably linked with bonfires, which were regularly lit on top of the ‘round tower’
(Walker 1997, 41). The association of a significant location with traditional rituals
highlights the importance place played in the affirmation of identity.
The importance of location, and the symbolism held by the Keep of a castle, is
demonstrated at Hopton Castle. Here, the Parliamentarian defenders only described the
Keep itself as the ‘castle’, referring to ancillary buildings within the outer wall as the
castle by names such as ‘the brick tower’ or ‘newer brick house’ (Bath 1904, 38-39).
The reservation of the word ‘castle’ for a single building, despite the attempt to defend
the outer perimeter of the stronghold, demonstrates how a single building could
represent the entire complex in the mind of its defenders. As a result, carousing and the
lighting of bonfires on the highest points of the castle was more than mere chance, it
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was also an opportunity for defenders to demonstrate their symbolic ownership of the
heart, and therefore the whole, of the castle.
At Pontefract, thirteen separate bonfire events are mentioned by Drake from 18th May
until 17th July 1645, two days before the surrender of the castle (Walker 1997, 46-59).
The increase in the number of bonfires towards the end of the siege is indicative of the
need for solidarity as Pontefract came under increasing duress, culminating in
capitulation to Parliament. The conjunction of the practices of drinking and bonfires is
of particular significance as bonfires were a ritual traditionally associated with the
celebration of significant events such as the birth of a royal child or traditional festivals
such as May Day (Cressy 1989, 67, 82). Although bonfires continued to be used for this
purpose throughout the conflict they were also adopted to celebrate victories, boost
morale or for political motives, for example in 1648 the pews from St Paul’s Cathedral
were used to create a bonfire (Cressy 1989, 67, 86; Kelsey 1997, 7).
Bonfires were events where social hierarchy and enmity was temporarily suspended, for
example John Stow recalled a bonfire at the beginning of the 17th century where:
‘the wealthier sort also before their doors near to the said bonfires would set out
tables...whereunto they would invite their neighbours and passengers also to sit and be
merry with them in great familiarity, praising God for his benefits bestowed on them.
These were called bonfires as well of good amity amongst neighbours, that being before
at controversy were there but by the labour of others reconciled, and made of bitter
enemies loving friends.’
(Stow 1842, 39)
The cohesion given by such an event is indicated by the events at Sandal where bonfires
were used to relay good news such as the safe return of messengers from the garrisons
and to relieve the pressure of a siege which was moving inexorably towards
Parliamentarian victory. The fact that all apart from one of the bonfires was instigated
by the Sandal garrison is indicative of the position the castle held as a psychological
support for the besieged within Pontefract.
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The location of such events is significant, as bonfires and communal drinking took
place in the highest points of the castle which were also its symbolic heart. This is
exemplified by Pontefract, where on 13th July 1645 the garrison gave only a single shout
from the courtyard but three from the top of the Round Tower (Walker 1997, 56). The
significance such events held is suggested by Parliamentarian activities after the second
Civil War, where the first building to be demolished was the ‘great tower’, the iconic
Round Tower upon which bonfires had been lit and insults thrown (Holmes 1887, 235).
The deliberate targeting of this building indicates this building was seen as a symbol of
Royalist defiance, and the same can be said for the bonfires lit upon them.
In addition to the public consumption of alcohol, there is also strong evidence for its
private consumption. For example, the entertaining of enemy opposition usually took
place within the towers of the castle, as exemplified at Brampton Bryan (Bath 1904, 4).
There is evidence that there was a hierarchy of locations for such parleys, with the best
accommodation restricted to the commanders, royalist representatives were later denied
entry to the garrison at Brampton Bryan, instead meeting their parliamentarian
counterparts on the bowling green (Bath 1904, 15). Letters between the two sides
indicated that the meeting place selected must be appropriate to the rank of the
participants, thus Brilliana Harley was indignant that the room in which she spoke with
the Royalist commander Sir John Scudamore was too cold (Bath 1904, 19). Similarly at
Pontefract when the two sides met the officers discussed terms of surrender, whilst
infantry from both sides joining forces to scrump an orchard (Walker 1997, 58). The
maintenance of hierarchy when dealing with the enemy was thus a continuation of the
maintenance of hierarchy within the garrison itself.
Although both officers and men took part in public consumption, significantly this took
place in a liminal space away from the principal living areas where rigid hierarchies
became fragmented as frivolity and alcohol were indulged. On the other hand private
consumption was the reserve of officers alone, conducted alongside the elaborate rituals
of hospitality. The events at Brampton Bryan indicate that higher quality material
culture such as glass vessels may have been restricted to the upper classes and
associated drinking rituals, and this is substantiated by the prominence of glass drinking
vessels along the North Wall at Eccleshall (see above, 6.4.2). The division between
public and private rituals of consumption were important as they maintained the
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important division between officers and men whilst at the same time giving the illusion
of a body of men with a shared common purpose. Although documents from
Malmesbury and Sheffield indicate the need for communal consumption, Drake’s diary
suggests the officers had their own provisions in their private quarters (see above,
3.6.1). The continuation of traditional divisions of rank was important at a time when
both sides viewed the abolition of class with alarm, as evidenced by the reaction against
such groups as the Levellers (Hill 1991, 199-200). As a result, although communal
consumption may take place at strategic times, the place in which this occurred was
highly selective, occurring in a public rather than private arena. Shared rituals were
important in maintaining the coherence of a garrison, but at the same time they were
also needed to maintain a hierarchy which both sides believed in.
9.6
The need for closure, the destruction of tradition
The rituals and material culture adopted during the English Civil War clearly
demonstrate the way in which tradition was employed by both sides to form a shared
group identity legitimised by the past. In particular, the evolution of the Cavalier
identity and the proliferation of bonfires at castles such as Pontefract indicate how
traditional practice intensified and increased in importance once the royalist cause
became tenuous. Given the importance tradition played in maintaining the identity of a
garrison, its significance in the aftermath of the conflict, particularly after the first Civil
War, must be appreciated.
Other studies have highlighted the multiple motives of those responsible for the
slighting of castles during the Civil War (Rakoczy 2007). Certainly the reasons behind
the destruction of castles are complex, as the three case studies have demonstrated (see
above, 4.6), but the role of tradition, particularly in the destruction of material culture,
must be considered. Studies of the destruction of Kenilworth Castle demonstrate how
the new commander legitimised his control through the removal of the Earl of
Leicester’s insignia from the Great Hall to his new house in the Gatehouse, in the
process adopting ‘a lineage and a past that was not his own’ (Rakoczy 2007, 203).
Similar motivations can be seen in Sir William Brereton’s attempts to retain Eccleshall
Castle and his later decision to occupy the Bishop’s Palace at Croydon, although his
conversion of the chapel there is also indicative of his need to enforce his puritan beliefs
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on a building he viewed as ostentatious and irreligious (Morrill 1985, 319; Dore 1990,
58).
The importance of tradition in the aftermath of the Civil War is further demonstrated by
the actions of Lady Anne Clifford, Countess of Pembroke. Although she had taken little
part in the Civil War, instead securing herself at Baynard’s Castle from 1642 until 1648
(Clifford 1990, 95), her actions during the Interregnum demonstrate her belief in the
maintenance of authority through tradition. In active defiance of Cromwell’s
government she restored the family castles of Appleby, Brough, Brougham, Pendragon
and Skipton, despite the fact that several had already been slighted by act of Parliament
and others, such as Brough and Pendragon, had been derelict for many years (Spence
1997, 155). The restoration of Skipton is particularly noteworthy as the castle had been
subject to a four year siege until 1646 and had been largely destroyed (Spence 1997,
127). Her actions were unusual at a time when the government supported the
obliteration of the past in favour of the creation of a new world order in which the
king’s role was greatly reduced and, after 1649, did not exist at all. Within this context,
Lady Clifford’s reaction is clear. Appleby for example she described as ‘ye most
auncient seat of myne inheritance’, whilst the reconstruction of all five castles
incorporated a quotation from Isaiah 58.12 stating ‘and they that shall be of thee shall
build the waste places; thou shalt raise up the foundations of many generations, and
thou shalt be called the repairer of the breach, the restorer of paths to dwell therein’
(Clifford 1990, 100-101). The Countess rebuilt castles, almshouses, and churches and
even revived old customs such as the provision of a ‘boon hen’ by tenants in addition to
their rents (Clifford 1990, 102; Spence 1997, 204). Although an anomaly, her actions
demonstrate the importance placed on tradition in the maintenance of authority and how
traditional methods were used to exert that authority.
As inhabited buildings are usually kept clear of debris, large deposits of material culture
clearly demonstrate a significant change in building use. This is typified by events at
Newcastle-upon-Tyne, where a large dunghill which had built up against the castle wall
in the early 17th century was cleared to make a rampart in 1643/4 as part of the
preparations for war (Harbottle and Ellison 1981, 94). Although demolished several
decades after the conflict, the distribution of artefacts at Nonsuch Palace suggests that
until the demolition of the buildings garderobes and other features were periodically
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cleansed. Upon demolition, large deposits of material were only discarded in occupied
areas, with garderobes elsewhere being largely empty (Biddle 2005, 53-4). Another
mass deposit within the cellar of the Old Hall, Temple Balsall represents the disposal of
material from three generations of the same family from c.1650 to c.1740 as part of a
partial demolition when a new house was built for the family (Gooder 1984, 151). The
large deposits of material culture at Civil War sites thus fit into a well-established
pattern of closure deposits which usually symbolically marked the end to a particular
phase in building use.
Aside from the castles already mentioned, other examples of closure deposits from Civil
War castles include Laugharne Castle, Carmarthenshire, where a stone-lined pit
‘probably’ dating to the English Civil War was filled with pottery dating from the 15 th
to 17th centuries and a bronze candlestick dating to the 15th century (Avent 1977, 2022). Even where the castle continued to be in active use after the conflict some
deposition of material culture can be associated with the Civil War. For example, at
Dover a dining assemblage largely consisting of contemporary dishes, drinking
equipment and skillets were deposited in a garderobe shaft in the curtain wall (Maynard
1983, 31). Although this may be expected in a large town such as Newcastle-uponTyne, where the demolition of the curtain wall in the 17th century was succeeded by
episodes of refuse disposal (Harbottle 1966, 100), the deliberate infilling of many
castles with material culture consumed within them requires further explanation.
Closure deposits from the Civil War are not restricted to castles, as demonstrated by the
well of St Paul-in-the-Bail, Lincoln (Mann 2008), and reflect a genuine need amongst
the population to bring the period to a physical as well as psychological conclusion. The
removal of ‘the Rubbidge...of the old Castle at Skipton, which had layn in it since it was
throwne down and demolished in December 1648 and the January following’
demonstrates how much of an obstacle it was to the use of a building, as Lady Anne
Clifford had to cleanse the building in 1655 before commencing her renovations
(Clifford 1990, 125).
If the use of archaic material culture during the conflict reinforced the defenders’ need
to legitimise their cause with past events, so the destruction of that material culture
represented the need to dispose of that past in the creation of a new vision for the future.
This is exemplified by the well of St Paul-in-the-Bail, Lincoln which contained an
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assemblage containing a fragment of plate armour, a fragment of morion and a high
concentration of Cistercian wares (Egan 2008, 70; Young 2008, 30). Despite having a
large number of children’s toys which may be associated with the clearance of a
grammar school (Morris 2008), other contexts have a high proportion of drinking
vessels similar to that of garrison sites, suggesting a significant part of the assemblage
originates from a nearby inn (Young 2008, 36). The archaic material culture within the
well was deposited alongside architectural elements proven to be from the shrine of
Little St. Hugh, part of the cathedral destroyed by Parliament during the conflict
(Graves 2008b, 21). The destruction of castles and associated material culture has many
parallels with acts of iconoclasm, as although the former has few religious overtones
both sought to destroy the traditional way of life, as ‘king-breaking was lumped with
thing-breaking’ (Aston 1988, 63). Parliamentarian orders from 1643 and 1644
specifically excluded monuments of kings and nobles from acts of destruction, but the
destruction at a number of sites of worship including Lincoln and Lichfield indicates
anger was directed towards the old command structure, with effigies of the dead
destroyed alongside idols and images (Aston 1988, 83; Ellis and Atherton 2009, 241;
Spraggan 2003, 208; Graves 2008a, 83). Royal icons in particular were targeted,
defaced monuments including the Arms of Catherine of Aragon and Mary, Queen of
Scots at Peterborough, King John’s tomb at Worcester and statues of James I and
Charles I at Chichester (Spraggan 2003, 210). The destruction of cathedrals was
particularly violent as, in addition to being perceived as gaining financially at the cost of
civic bodies within the same city, they were seen as visual reminders not just of the
reforms of Archbishop Laud, but also their Roman Catholic past (Spraggan 2003, 1789). Iconoclasm was just as complex as the slighting of castles in its motivations and
outcomes, nevertheless a reaction against tradition must be seen as an intrinsic aspect of
this practice.
The abandonment of archaic armour after the conflict is partially due to active selection,
with more modern pieces taken away by the victorious party leaving behind those
pieces deemed unfit for purpose (Robinson 1993, 211). However, the same armour was
deemed to be suitable only a few years before their abandonment and as a result their
presence within slighting deposits demonstrates a cultural shift rather than a sudden
improvement in military tactics. The presence of such armour alongside antiquated
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ceramic and glass forms including Cistercian ware highlights this abandonment of old
material culture in favour of artefacts which were less outdated.
Finding archaic wares in large deposits is not unusual, near-complete profiles of
Cistercian ware vessels having been recovered from Temple Balsall almost a century
after the last such vessel left the potter’s wheel (Gooder 1984, 157). However, their
presence in such large numbers in the period following the Civil War is noteworthy,
particularly as they coincide with the destruction of the large monuments in which they
were consumed. Their destruction, at this place and at this particular time, indicates
their role in the widespread rejection of traditional rituals and lifestyles in favour of a
new regime.
The English Civil War has been renamed by some commentators ‘the English
Revolution’ due to the impact it had on social life (e.g. Morrill 1993; Hill 1955).
Certainly there was continuity with preceding centuries, for example as late as the 17th
century traditional cures such as burying a stoneware jug containing urine for kidney
pain were still adhered to, even by leading surgeons of the period (Hill 1991, 278).
However, in many ways the end of the first Civil War marked an end to many social
conventions. Although Royalists continued the struggle for the crown until 1651, after
1645 old concerns of chivalry and feudalism were largely abandoned. This change in
concern is marked by the material culture deposited at almost all castle sites. Although
the deposits at Pontefract date to after 1649, the pleas of the local townspeople,
although steeped in emotive language, also make it clear that the castle belonged to the
events of the past rather than the future.
9.7
Conclusion
The reaction against the past following the Civil War, in which buildings were both
utilised and destroyed as part of a legitimation of regime change, reflects the importance
placed on tradition by those who participated in these events. As William Dugdale’s
statement at the beginning of this chapter demonstrates, events within the present are
both framed by and understood through the actions of the past. It was this understanding
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which was tested, reaffirmed and destroyed during the course of a conflict which
affected every corner of England and its neighbouring countries.
It is usual to view the occupation of castles during the Civil War as an anomaly,
removed from its medieval antecedents (see above, 2.3). However, as this study
demonstrates, it is only by situating the events of the conflict within the context of the
preceding centuries that it is possible to fully understand the role of the castle in social
discourse during this period. The anachronistic symbolism of these buildings was
reinforced with other elements to formulate a Royalist ideal seemingly threatened by the
Parliamentarian forces. The reaction against this can be clearly seen in the destruction of
all castles, but most particularly Pontefract, where the very name of the castle, Pomfret,
was erased from the public record. This reaction was necessarily complex and cannot be
ascribed to a simplistic reaction by the ‘middling sort’ against a repressive minority.
Nevertheless, the participation of castles within the events of the mid-17th century
demonstrates that, far being obsolete, they still played an active role in contemporary
society. Only by seeing the post-medieval occupation of castles as a continuation of
their medieval role is it possible to fully appreciate these institutions and the way in
which their biography changed throughout time and space.
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10 Conclusion
A foreword to one of the foremost publications on the later medieval castle states its
aim ‘to discover the truth about castles in England’ (Johnson 2002, n.p.). However, as
has been demonstrated by this study, there is no single truth about castles; there is
instead a multitude of truths held by each individual who experiences these institutions.
As a result, the challenge to all scholars of the castle is to seek new approaches which
can interpret the castle in its entirety. The biographical methodology espoused here is
one such approach, analysing assemblages from castles to demonstrate the true
complexity of social discourse at these sites during a single, short-lived, period.
10.1 Fulfilment of Aims
This thesis had two primary aims: to promote a biographical approach to castles through
the analysis of material culture, and to address the academic neglect of post-medieval
castle studies, particularly their occupation during the English Civil War. As an initial
investigation into this field of study, this thesis demonstrates that the “battle for
Bodiam”, which has recently preoccupied scholars, has obscured the full complexity of
the castle, although this can only be a partial victory as much work remains before the
significance of these sites can be truly understood.
10.1.1 The post-medieval castle
This study has clearly demonstrated that during a period when castles have been
described as almost obsolete (Bottomley 1979, 165), they could instead be extremely
active both in terms of military strategy and as agents in the creation of social identities.
Far from being isolated from their medieval past, they were in fact very much
embedded within it, as demonstrated by the occupation of Sandal. The battle which
occurred in front of its gates on 30th December 1460 was a clear impetus first for its
renovation by Richard III and then its subsequent refortification during the English
Civil Wars. Far from being anomalous, the refortification of buildings during the
English Civil Wars is indicative of the way in which the castle was still a dominant
force in military strategy and social discourse during the 17th century.
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10 Conclusion
The approach adopted by this thesis has highlighted the non-military social discourse
within castles during this period. Rather than focus on the destruction caused by war, an
investigation of the construction of identity through eating and drinking provides new
insights into the experiences of 17th-century warfare. Castles were far more than walls
for a garrison to cower behind; they were instead active in the creation of identity, as
evidenced by their prevalence on siege coinage of the period. The castles included
within this study were just as important to their occupants as those who had inhabited
them in previous centuries; it is only modern observers who diminish their importance
during this period.
The division between the medieval and post-medieval periods has become almost
insurmountable in recent decades, with clear divides drawn between the non-consumer
society of the medieval period and the rise of a capitalist society, thus ‘the one
proposition that occasionally unites all archaeological studies of the period after c.1500
is that we study the rise of the modern world’ (Johnson 1999b, 17, see also Fine and
Leopold 1993, 64). Thus the castle is in inevitable decline during the 16th century,
superseded by Henrican forts and more comfortable manor houses and mansions and
whilst these new buildings ‘referred to a medieval past…it was the past’ (Johnson 2002,
173; see also Thompson 1987, 17-18). However, as this study has demonstrated, the
occupation of castles during the Civil War should be viewed as a continuation of the
past rather than its revival. As Courtney states (1997b, 9), ‘both continuity and the true
origins of change are often hidden by rigid period demarcations’, and nowhere is this
clearer than in the study of the Civil War castle. The symbolism of the castle as feudal
fortress was still very much an active present during this period, representing many of
the Royalists core values.
It would be wrong to suggest that the concept of the castle had remained unaltered over
the century and a half separating the Wars of the Roses and the English Civil War.
Nevertheless, to deny the post-medieval castle its medieval origin is to ignore an
integral part of the castle’s identity and the way in which it interacted with
contemporary society. Just as there have been detailed discussions of the idea of the
medieval castle (Wheatley 2004), so too there must now be a discussion of the idea of
the post-medieval castle.
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10 Conclusion
10.1.2 A biographical approach to castles
Despite concentrating on a single period of time, this thesis has highlighted the benefits
to be gained from the biographical approach to castles outlined in chapter 2. Always
intended to supplement rather than supplant current approaches, the analysis of material
culture provides fresh insights into social discourse within castles. The social history of
the castle was often more important than its architecture; for example, the actions of Sir
William Brereton at Eccleshall demonstrate his need to occupy an ecclesiastical palace,
a wish finally fulfilled at Croydon. Therefore, it is essential to appreciate the castle in its
entirety rather than focus on the built environment alone.
The three sites chosen as detailed case studies have highlighted the importance of
material culture choices during the mid-17th century, whether this was the elite drinking
assemblage at Eccleshall, the separation of consumption areas at Sandal or a communal
feasting assemblage at Pontefract. They, just as much as the architecture in which they
were consumed, influenced and in turn were influenced by the individuals who used and
discarded them. Far from being a passive tool for dating, such material culture allows
archaeologists to explore the castle as it was experienced in the past. Although this
thesis has focussed on one small element of the material record, the artefacts associated
with the consumption of food and drink, this has still revealed the complexity of social
discourse during a single phase of the castle’s life.
The distribution of material culture at all three sites, and Sandal in particular, has
highlighted the importance of place in consumption practices and drinking rituals in
particular. The concentration of material around the symbolic heart of the castle, the
motte, at a time when much of it had been destroyed, complements the documentary
evidence from Pontefract where bonfires and flags of defiance were focussed on the
locations most important to the garrison, namely the top of the Keep and the King’s
Tower. The use of these locations in conjunction with drinking rituals emphasises the
way in which identity was shaped through the execution of actions within a particular
location.
The importance of time has also been demonstrated through the maintenance of
tradition by the use and deposition of archaic vessels at all sites. This practice
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10 Conclusion
underlines the fact that the conflict, whilst being part of wider social change, also
emphasised continuity with the past. The medieval vessels employed at Eccleshall and
Pontefract highlight the curation of objects by the occupants of the castle and the
embracing of historic elements within 17th-century social discourse. Rather than dismiss
such items as residual, the incorporation of these into a meaningful discussion of their
role with a Civil War context demonstrates the multiple roles a single artefact can play
with contemporary society.
Matthew Johnson’s knight sat outside the gate of Bodiam marvelling at its modernity
but bemoaning its defensibility (Johnson 2002, 30). In the same way it is possible to
envision a group of infantrymen, by no means elite, drinking at the top of the motte at
Sandal. Among the vessels they are using are particular cups which situate them both
spatially and temporally within a local framework. Their forms are archaic, suggesting
the heritage for which they are fighting, whilst the Wrenthorpe marks on the base of
their handle remind them of their homeland which they are defending. Just as Johnson’s
knight is only one individual, so they too are but one group who experienced the castle
at one particular point in time. Only by reconstructing the biography of the castle is it
possible to fully appreciate the complexity and multiplicity of social discourse
conducted within its walls.
10.1.2.1
The biography of castles: the next chapter
In some ways the dual aims of this thesis were contradictory, promoting the use of a
multi-phase biographical approach yet using a methodology that focuses on just a single
period and restricted range of material culture. This was inevitable given the limited
resources of the thesis; however, the methodology demonstrated here must now be
applied to the entire lifespan of a castle. Studies of individual elements, for example
Moorhouse’s work on pottery distributions at Sandal or Thomas’ analysis of changing
consumption patterns of faunal remains at Dudley, have demonstrated this is a viable
and informative approach, but these single-focus studies need to be extended to
incorporate all forms of material culture (Moorhouse 1983a, 169-173; Thomas 2005,
75-77). The analysis of the entire biography of a castle would not involve any drastic
change to the methodology employed here, merely the extension of that methodology to
additional phases of the castle.
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10 Conclusion
The biography of the castle should ideally incorporate every aspect of material culture
used within the castles walls, although the scope of this thesis concentrated on the
artefacts associated with the consumption of food and drink. In particular, tobacco pipes
are a notable omission from this study of 17th-century social discourse, despite their
considerable value in aiding a reconstruction of life within a Civil War garrison.
Although not directly associated with the consumption of food and drink, the role of
smoking in group identity and social discourse during this period should not be
underestimated, as they are often associated with drinking rituals in contemporary
woodcuts (see fig. 6.10).
The omission of certain types of material culture from this thesis serves to highlight the
principal difference between current approaches and one governed by biography. Unlike
the interpretation of landscape, which can be achieved by a single person, constructing
the full biography of the castle requires an interdisciplinary and collaborative approach
in which historical and archaeological methodologies are combined into a single
narrative. It is impossible for a single person to be an expert on artefacts covering
several material types, and a period of time that could cover almost a millennium from
the inception of the castle to the present day. As a result the true biography of the castle,
like the castle itself, must be the result of a large number of agents. This thesis has
served to demonstrate that such an approach is possible, but only through a
collaboration which can fully elucidate the complex social history of the castle.
10.2 Building for the future: new directions for a biographical approach
As with any preliminary study, this thesis has raised a number of directions for future
study. The need for a holistic approach to castles has been outlined in the previous
section, but there are numerous other possibilities for a biographical approach including
the investigation of other Civil War assemblages, the analysis of assemblages from
other siege sites and the extension of a biographical approach to other forms of
architecture, most notably monasteries.
10.3 Further analysis of Civil War assemblages
If a material cultural approach to castles during the Civil War is to be truly successful it
must incorporate more than the three sites presented here. This can be achieved in two
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10 Conclusion
ways: the analysis of excavated sites which have yet to be published and the reanalysis
of those that have appeared in print to conform to the methodological approach adopted
for this thesis. Not all Civil War sites are suitable for such analysis; urban castles such
as Newcastle for example would represent the biography of the local area rather than the
castle in particular. Nevertheless, despite the decline of large open area excavation in
recent years there are still a substantial number of sites for which the proposed approach
would be applicable.
The number of castles with large unpublished assemblages is depressingly high.
Although the reasons for their neglect vary from an architectural bias to a lack of money
in developer-funded archaeology, the result, and the loss to archaeology, is the same.
The castles presented here form only a small sample, but they typify the sites which
have such great potential in the field of castle studies:

Dudley Castle, West Midlands. A Manpower Services Commission funded
excavation, investigations at Dudley castle resulted in one of the most exciting
assemblages relating to the Civil War. The excavation of the Keep in particular
revealed ceramic vessels which appeared to have been dropped from building’s
windows, whilst the conditions in the garderobe meant fragile items such as
scraps of leather clothing survived. Despite the importance of this site, which
also included an impressive collection of glass vessels and window glass, due to
funding difficulties only selected elements such as the animal bones,
environmental samples and condoms have been published (Boland 1984; 1985;
Ratkai 1985: 1987; Gaimster et al. 1996: Thomas 2005). A general overview of
the ceramic assemblage has been published along with a paper regarding the
post-medieval coarsewares, although these contain insufficient detail to be of
use to the methodology outline here. Dudley has great potential, particularly as it
may lack the archaic material present at the case studies discussed here (S.
Ratkai, pers. comm.). Its status during the 16th century as the Earl of Essex’s
home and its subsequent use by the Royalists as one of their principal midland
garrisons means it has much to offer the field of castle studies, but this can only
be achieved through the analysis and publication of the excavation.
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10 Conclusion

Sheffield Castle, South Yorkshire. Excavations during the development of the
market at Sheffield produced an extensive assemblage relating predominantly to
the outer gatehouse of the castle (Armstrong 1935). The published literature
only relates to a plan of excavation and none of the artefacts recovered are
included. Although only related to one particular area of the castle, the amount
of material retrieved by the excavators suggests it could still reveal substantial
information regarding social discourse at the site during the Civil War.

Helmsley Castle, North Yorkshire. Like many castle sites, Helmsley was subject
to clearance by the Ministry of Work in which material was removed wholesale
to reveal the outline of ditches of walls. Despite this, it is possible to plot the
distribution of material across the site, demonstrating there is still potential to
investigate castles which have not been subject to systematic excavation
practices (see fig. 1.2).

Montgomery Castle, Powys. Although all other artefact types from the extensive
excavations at Montgomery have been published, the pottery is restricted to a
list of forms and fabrics recovered (Knight 1982). Whilst these suggest an
unusually exotic collection of material for a castle so far inland, this must be
confirmed through further analysis and quantification of the assemblage.
In addition to the analysis of unpublished assemblages, there are several sites which
need to be reassessed to conform to the methodology posited within this thesis. These
include examples such as Basing House (Moorhouse 1970; 1901a), which consist of a
list of vessels with little indication of how complete they may be, thereby creating
difficulties in estimating the number of vessels represented. Although unstratified sites
such as Basing can still reveal exciting insights in social discourse at elite sites during
this period, this can only be achieved through a more accurate estimate of vessels
present than is currently available. Other published sites such as Beeston suffer from
this to a lesser extent due to the difficulties of quantifying pottery at a given site. This
thesis has highlighted the benefits to be gained from an accurate quantification of
ceramics, but current conventions in ceramic analysis means it is difficult to compare
237
10 Conclusion
assemblages from numerous sites. This needs to be resolved before a wider study of
material culture during this period can be achieved.
10.3.1 The biography of the siege
Although the period 1642-1651 marked one of most traumatic conflicts England has
ever witnessed, it was not the only civil war conducted on its soil. Many of these during
the medieval period included siege warfare to some extent, most notably during the
Anarchy (1135-1153) but also as a result of the Barons’ War during King John’s reign,
and even during the Wars of the Roses. The study of castles besieged in these conflicts
not only provide an important parallel for the occupation of these sites during the 17th
century, but also give a valuable insight into the experience of the castle during the
medieval period.
Naturally this task is far from easy, particularly since the sieges of many of these castles
was short-lived, and it is often impossible to isolate material culture related to these
events. Nevertheless, the excavation of several siege castles constructed by King
Stephen whilst besieging towns including Exeter and Wallingford suggest the
methodology employed within this thesis can still be applied at particular sites. The
possibilities of this approach are demonstrated by an assemblage relating to Crowmarsh
Castle, constructed by Stephen whilst besieging Wallingford in 1139. Here a substantial
assemblage of jugs and other drinking equipment suggests communal consumption
amongst the elite was not restricted to 17th-century sieges (O. Creighton pers. comm.;
Christie and Creighton 2013, 236).
10.3.2 The biography of occupation
The castle is not the only building for which a biography can be constructed. All
structures are shaped by, and in turn shape, the social discourse which occurs within and
around them, but the nature of deposition means it is often difficult to use a material
culture approach to analyse them. However, where extensive excavations have
occurred, as at urban centres such as Southampton and rural sites including Wharram
Percy, it is possible to examine the way in which the experience of the site changed over
time (Brown 2002; Hayfield 1987, 1-2).
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10 Conclusion
One obvious target for this approach is monastic sites. A substantial number of these,
like a significant number of castles, are sufficiently isolated within their environment to
produce material assemblages which can be clearly associated with the sites occupation.
Like castles, many suffered a similar period of catastrophic destruction during the
Reformation, sealing substantial assemblages of material culture which can provide a
wealth of information about the social discourse at the site. This has been demonstrated
by the ceramic assemblages at sites including Kirkstall Abbey and Mount Grace Priory,
and the interpretation of these sites can only be enhanced by the incorporation of other
forms of material culture (Moorhouse and Slowikowski 1987; Roebuck and Coppack
1987)
Monastic sites also suffer from the same neglect as the post-medieval castle as their
occupation during the 16th century onwards is largely ignored. Often adapted into elite
houses, their use has parallels with the actions of elite commanders such as Sir William
Brereton during the Civil War, and indeed a number of converted monasteries including
Abbeycwmhir, Powys and Thurgarton Priory, Nottinghamshire played an active role in
the conflict (Gaunt 1987, 132, 191-192). As a result, a biography of monastic sites, such
as that adopted for Monk Bretton, is needed to incorporate this phase of their lives into
earlier periods (Willmott and Bryson 2013, 138). As with castles, only by overcoming
the medieval/post-medieval divide is it truly possible to appreciate ecclesiastical sites as
the complex, flexible and exciting environments they truly were.
10.4 Final remarks
This thesis has been defined by two conflicts separated by several centuries but both
caused by differing ideologies. Although the modern debate over the castle is scholarly
in nature rather than military, there is still a need for closure between the two opposing
arguments of status and defence. Rather than continue a tedious and pointless deadlock,
it is now time to raise the siege and seek pastures new. A bibliographic approach
facilitated through the analysis of material culture is a new weapon in an arsenal aimed
at breaking down the castle gate and moving beyond it, focussing not on what a castle
looked like but instead on how it was experienced. As a result, although the battle for
Bodiam is definitively over, the war for the castle’s true identity is just beginning.
239
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